


Twice Dead

by Kerrigore



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Birth of Reaper, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Conspiracies, Dissociative Behavior, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness - Anxiety, My Version of Sombra, Nanites are Fun, Reconciliation, Redemption, Revenge, Sexually Explicit Content in: Ch.14, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, Two Old Men Try to Work Out Their Extensive Problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 107,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerrigore/pseuds/Kerrigore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does it take for the man to regain himself from the monster he believes he's become? When Gabriel Reyes falls, he falls alone. In order to rise, to become whole again, he's going to need help from the one he thought he'd lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been updated as of 4/30/17. The story has remained unchanged.

There was nothing on the other side for Gabriel Reyes, at least not that he remembered. He was everywhere, and nowhere; formless, unable to feel the heat around him though he saw nothing but fire.

The sound of sobbing drew his attention, and through the shifting hues of red and yellow he saw Jack Morrison cradling a bleeding corpse amongst piles of rubble. Part of what he assumed was the ceiling lay in close proximity, having been dragged away from where Jack sat. Gabriel didn’t immediately register that the form clutched tightly against Jack’s heaving chest was his own.

_What is this…? Am I? Oh… oh Jack._

“Gabe,” Jack said between sobs, shaking Gabriel’s body, fingers tugging at his armored chest plate. “This isn’t funny. You need to wake up now.”

Far across the scape of destruction remnants of Overwatch’s Swiss base crumbled with a sound as hollow and deafening as Jack’s plea. An explosion, a culmination of Gabriel’s warnings, had torn through the organization’s iconic bastion, shockwaves having rippled through stone, metal, and flesh to tear their world asunder.

Jack’s trembling hand caressed Gabriel’s cheek, and his voice cracked as he softly said, “Please.”, no doubt hoping the word would hold some sort of magic.

But Gabriel wasn’t getting up. They both knew that. A spear of shrapnel from a steel strut, wet and glistening in the glowing inferno, had broken through his defenses and ended his life.

Jack hung his head and cried. Gabriel had seen Jack cry before. He’d cried during the enhancement program when the sores from the injections swelled and burned, pain more than the medications they were given could dull. He would do it when he thought Gabriel was sleeping, but he’d always heard Jack, and he’d always climbed down off his bunk into the one below and held him until he drifted off for the night. Gabriel had always been there for Jack, and Jack for him, at least in those days. _Better days._

Tears streamed down Jack’s cheeks, carving stark, clean lines through the filth on his face from the blast. “I’m sorry Gabe… I’m so sorry. All of this is my fault.”

He wasn’t wrong. So much had happened beneath Jack’s nose, and he’d been so preoccupied with his new position in Overwatch that Gabriel, and his problems, fell by the wayside. Once inseparable, Jack became the poster boy, the light of the organization and Gabriel was relegated to the shadows, his work unspoken, efforts invisible, past glories ignored. It was so _insulting_ to see a subordinate promoted over his Commanding Officer, and worse still was having everyone know it. Those fucking silent stares he’d gotten whenever he turned a corner or walked into a room, demanding to know what Gabriel, the hero of the Omnic Crisis, did so wrong for the UN to put some farm boy from Indiana in _his_ place. He scoffed. That had turned out real well, hadn’t it? Yet, even knowing that, he still couldn’t stand the sight before him…

Jack buried his sorrow against Gabriel’s chest as best he could, head brushing the protruding shrapnel, which streaked his sun-touched hair a horrid shade of crimson.      

_Leave me. You’re only making it harder on us._

A hand mimed until it found the strut, clutching it tight enough to slice through the flesh of his palm. Jack didn’t seem to notice or care. He sat up and yanked the offending object with a roar Gabriel was more used to hearing come from himself. No match for Jack’s enhanced strength, it was thrown aside, clattering against scorched earth. Jack snarled and punched the air helplessly. A tremble ran through him with enough intensity to cause him to squeeze his eyes shut and cover his mouth.

“Fuck,” Jack said through his fingers, spitting more anger into that word than Gabriel had heard from him in a long time, even during their last fight.

He stared down at Gabriel’s body, drawing a deep breath before trying to stand. He managed, but struggled more to lift dead weight and hold Gabriel in his arms. Jack paused to survey the area, taking in what the sundering of their relationship had wrought before he limped away.

Gabriel was compelled to follow Jack, and his own corpse, which seemed more surreal the longer he considered it. He didn’t recall dying, but sure enough, there he was; limp and leaving a trail of sanguine drops from his still warm fingers. Gabriel stopped focusing on himself – he had to – instead looking at Jack.

He was in a shit state. While certainly not the first time, seeing him then was easily the worst: this time the scars would go deeper than his skin and Gabriel wouldn’t be there to heal them. Jack had been burned; the flesh on the lower parts of his face and hands looking like melted plastic, bloody and oozing. Smooth, diagonal cuts marred the bridge of his strong nose and right cheek, pulling on the corner of his upper lip where a chunk was missing. He limped heavily, like he’d broken something, or multiple somethings, and Gabriel wondered how much more damage Jack was doing to himself by lugging his corpse around.

 _No longer perfect, eh boy scout?_ He tried to lighten the mood for himself. The cruelty of the joke didn’t bother him; those kinds of things rarely did, but only because Jack would retort with something either equally mean or incredibly lame. Gabriel would give him a friendly smack across the shoulder and the two of them would laugh it off. But he couldn’t do that anymore, could he?

_Jack… what did we do?_

Overwatch’s Swiss base had been built in the middle of Zürich near the Limmat River. During the Omnic Crisis the city had turned into a war zone, damn tin cans cutting down lives and tearing through buildings. Overwatch had only partially resurrected it, forced to stop when it became at odds with several groups of protesters that wanted to leave it as; something about reverence for the dead. Gabriel understood, but ultimately, hadn't see the point. The world was a graveyard; littered with the husks of destroyed omnics, and the remnants of soldiers who were never recovered. Overwatch was meant to put a shiny coat a paint over the death to help the world move on. They'd done the important part: removed and properly buried all of the bodies. Leaving the buildings just served as memories; bad ones at that, but Jack, being the pushover he sometimes was with the public, especially when it benefited the organization's righteous image, caved.

Overwatch had been something they built together, and Gabriel believed in it all once.

He watched Jack trudge through the broken part of the city. It was covered in ages of grime, eerily still. Shadows of skeletons that used to be businesses and homes stretched across a street filled with abandoned vehicles. Jack headed for a large building with intact windows – an apartment complex by the look of it, ducking into the first unit he found.

“I don’t remember you being this heavy Gabe,” Jack said. He tried to smile but tears came instead. Gabriel hoped he’d stop soon, but he didn’t actually believe it. Jack carefully placed his body on an old couch, scowling at the small puff of dust emitted from the cushions.

Jack seemed drawn to the gaping hole in Gabriel’s chest as if sucked in by its presence, his usually bright blue eyes having noticeably dulled. Gabriel’s blood was all over his clothes, some having dried on the walk over, caked in layers. He was probably still bleeding. Gabriel figured the shrapnel had either shredded his heart, or severed something close to it. Either way the result was the same.

_Stop staring Jack. Please._

Jack placed a palm on Gabriel’s face and slowly brushed his eyes closed. He fished beneath Gabriel’s armor and pulled out his dog tags, unhooking the chain. Without pause Jack put them around his neck, the clink of metal against metal as Gabriel's tags fell against his own. After, he limped to the wall opposite of the couch and slid down into a sit, the back of his head knocking against it. His knuckles hit the floor. His brow lifted as his eyes widened. Jack adopted the cold, vacant look of a man who’d just realized he was really, truly alone.

Gabriel wanted desperately to stop watching, but he had no control, no eyes to close. He was stuck again, an unwilling observer; unwilling to watch Jack mourn him, unwilling to accept he’d been passed over, unwilling to convince his best friend that they’re organization was bleeding internally, and unwilling to tell the person closest to his heart how much it all hurt.

Jack remained there for a while, and when he decided to move he pressed the communicator in the ear of his headpiece, which Gabriel was surprised still worked, given the visor was gone. He figured the rest would have been damaged too. “Secure line, code: 13-5-18-3-25.” His voice was far from composed, “Angela, do you read? I… I need you…”

“Wait, hold on. Excuse me, just a moment.” Somehow Gabriel could hear her. Dr. Angela Ziegler, normally calm under any circumstance, spoke in a forced whisper, her breath hitching. “Jack? You’re alive. _Gott sei Dank._  We’re searching for you. Where are you? Is Gabriel with you?”

_In more than one way._

“Are you alone?”

She sighed, not answering immediately. “As alone as I can be. The base… Jack, I don’t know how many are dead. Bodies are still being pulled from the wreckage. There may not be enough room in the morgue… how… what happened?”

“I can’t tell you right now. Angela, no one can know I survived. Not the team, not the UN, no one.”

“What? Jack, I don’t think I can do that. Based on my friendship with you and Gabriel, the UN is going to interrogate me.”

“Then lie. Screw the UN,” Jack said curtly. If only he’d had the balls to say that sort of thing more often. Things might have been different then. “I’m done with it all.”

“Jack…”

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important, and it is, more than I can express right now.”

Angela sighed again. “Alright. Where are you?”

“I’ll relay coordinates. Come alone. That’s an order, if it’s still worth anything.”

Her next words were laced with the concern she’d been tamping down until that point, “Are you hurt?”

“More than you know,” he said solemnly.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The call ended. Jack tore off his headpiece and chucked it across the room. He glanced at Gabriel’s body, no doubt imagining Gabriel was just sleeping, and that he’d wake up soon. It’s what Gabriel would have done had the situation been reversed. Jack slumped down more in an effort to achieve a small level of comfort and closed his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

Gabriel had lost all concept of time. Unfortunately, his impatience still lingered. Jack had fallen asleep for a while, his breath rolling over his raw lips in wheezes. He’d surely broken a few ribs. Gabriel wanted nothing more than to sit there and let Jack use him as a pillow as they’d done so many times in the past. He had an urge to wrap an arm around Jack, stroke his hair, and quietly sing to him in in Spanish, in English; Jack hadn't cared, and over the years he’d learned to understand what it all meant, not that they'd needed words, at least back then. In truth, just liked hearing Gabriel’s voice, and Gabriel had been happy in knowing Jack was the only one he’d sing for. But they’d gone and fucked that all up. He’d fucked that all up.

When Angela finally arrived she was alone, aside from her medical kit, which she immediately dropped after spotting the corpse. _The corpse_. It was the best name for it, Gabriel decided. It certainly wasn’t him anymore; just a mass of soon to be rotting flesh, a buffet for some fucking worms.

She rushed over to it and checked for vitals out of habit, sliding on a pair of gloves from the pocket of her white field jacket. “Gabriel…”

The two of them had gotten along well enough, had been friends, even when she’d hassle him in that overbearing doctor tone of hers about breaking yet another bone or coming to her a bloody mess with a severe need to have something stitched. They’d shared the trait of being too professional, knowing how to hold back their emotions to focus on work, but he could tell, as she examined the edges of the chest wound, she was having trouble sticking to her program.

“It’s my fault,” Jack began, still in the same position he’d been, staring at the grey ceiling, “If I hadn’t gotten that promotion, if he hadn’t been with Blackwatch, _if I had listened_ , maybe none of this would have happened. Gabe had worked so hard, and deserved to be Strike Commander, and I wanted him to be, I really did.  How blind was I, not noticing what it was doing to him? I should have known his congratulatory remarks and unusually cheery attitude was just a mask, but I got busy,” Gabriel could hear the pain in his voice, “too busy for him… I did this.”

“That was so long ago Jack,” Angela said.

“I know, but it was what started to destroy us, and I did nothing but make it worse. I… I let others cloud my judgment, control my reason…” Jack’s voice shook. “I was so weak.”

Again, Gabriel wasn’t going to argue. Promotion and their past affairs aside, there’d been an infection in Blackwatch, and Gabriel, unable to stop it on his own, had tried to get Jack to amputate before it spread to what good still remained. He’d wanted a shutdown of Overwatch, but Jack, too proud and too trapped in his own head, had refused to believe him.

Angela continued her examination with care, noting the other punctures from smaller blast shrapnel. “You can’t blame yourself. It wasn’t just you who failed him. Please don’t take that burden. You’ll destroy yourself and everyone around you.”

“I’m already destroyed Angela,” he looked at her. There was nothing left of what Gabriel knew in Jack’s gaze.

She faced him.

“Gabe was everything to me.” He lightly touched his chest, trying not to choke up, but he’d always been lousy at reining in his sentimentality, a quality Gabriel had come to adore. “I loved him, and I did a lousy job showing it.”

_Too late on that one, but... I did too._

“And now,” Jack continued, “Gabriel, my Gabriel, is dead.”

Angela retrieved her kit, opened it, and knelt beside Jack. She frowned, at a loss for words, and began to assess Jack’s injuries. Seeing her touch Jack, even if she was a doctor, upset him, especially when she helped him remove his coat, chest armor, and shirt to gently press her fingers against his ribs, watching him breathe. Gabriel should be the one helping Jack, not her. He’d taken care of Jack during missions when they were fortunate enough to work together, which had been less and less since the promotion.  _My own fault really…_  

“Thank your enhancements,” Angela said. She injected him with a syringe from her kit. “This will help, but you’re going to need rest. You have three fractured ribs. As for the burns, you’ll scar, but there isn’t anything here I can’t repair,” she paused, “physically, I mean.”

“Just patch me up, Doc.”

She nodded, sterilizing his open wounds and rubbing ointment on his burns. Jack let her wrap his hands, but brushed her off when she tried to do the same to his face. Angela tried again, shooting him a stern glare. Jack shook his head. “Leave it.”

“You asked me to come here. Let me do my job.”

He chuckled. “What does it matter? I’ve got no one to look pretty for anymore,” he paused. “It was always in the back of my mind…”

“What was?” Angela tried not to sound frustrated. She combed through Jack’s hair with her fingers, probably making sure the blood didn’t belong to him.

“That one, or both of us, would die doing this work. Never imagined it would be this way, but the question, lurking in the deepest corners, was always there: what would I do if he died and I lived?”

_And what would I do if it were the other way around?_

Jack chuckled weakly. It wasn’t a reaction to something amusing, but rather an attempt to feel any other emotion than despair. “I guess I found out.”

Angela sat on her knees, resting her palms on her thighs. “You should come back with me. Being alone isn’t going to help you.”

“And you can?”

“You have friends in Overwatch, Jack.”

He scoffed. “Do you really think there’s going to be an Overwatch after this? We were already under investigation. The Swiss base will be the final nail, or would you prefer not to believe that?”

“You know my answer.” She forced a smile.

It wasn’t enough to warm Jack’s response. “Hope. Hope won’t bring Gabe back. Neither will friends. Besides,” he turned away from her, “I don’t want any of them to see me like this. You said it before Angela. I’ll do nothing but destroy them.”

Angela reached out and guided his head to face her with her fingertips, “I did. Perhaps in error. You need support from your _family_ , and that’s not just my medical opinion speaking.”

“I can’t go back,” he said. “Strike Commander Jack Morrison died in that explosion with Blackwatch Commander Gabriel Reyes.”

Gabriel had expected Angela to reflect some remorse at that statement, but instead she just looked downright irritated. She repacked and closed her kit, speaking through clenched teeth. “So, you want me to tell that to everyone? You want me to burden them with false guilt and sorrow when they’re already going to be devastated over Gabriel?”

“I can’t handle being around them right now,” his hands became fists.

“Jack,” she set a hand atop his,” please, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

His fists only tightened. “I may not be able to again. I… I can barely stand to be around you.”

Angela looked taken aback.

“I just keep thinking… none of you are Gabe. Why couldn’t it have been one of you instead of him? Anyone else instead of him?”

She frowned deeply. If Gabriel wasn’t already dead, hearing that would have killed him.

“I’d give anything to have him back,” Jack tilted his head towards his right shoulder, likely imagining Gabriel’s to be there, “to see a smile light up those warm brown cheeks, to hear that borderline maniacal laugh of his after I’ve said something stupid, or even to have him chastise me for mispronouncing words in the many languages he was fluent in, then lovingly correct me after. _Anything_.”

Very little disturbed Gabriel, but when Jack finished he noticed Angela’s brow lift suddenly and her frown vanished into what looked like a smirk. As far as he knew, Angela didn’t smirk. She hid it before he could ponder it further. “You’re only proving my point.”

“Look, and this stays between us, but before… everything went to shit, Gabe had been trying to tell me there was something wrong with Overwatch and Blackwatch, something out of his control… He refused to mention specifics, urged me to trust him…” Jack’s face twisted in pain. Trust was the last thing Jack had had for Gabriel. “I should have. I couldn’t, but I fucking should have.” He sighed heavily, hand going to his side over his broken ribs. “I need to find out what really happened to the organization we made, and I can’t do it with the fucking UN breathing down my neck.” He gave her a desperate look. “I need to do this, for Gabe.”

Angela was silent. Gabriel noticed she was chewing at the inside of her lip, something she tended to do while deep in thought. After a moment she said, “Alright Jack. I’ll do as you ask.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, using the wall as leverage to stand.

“But, I don’t approve.”

“Noted.”

“Promise me something?”

“Hmm?” Jack scooped up his shirt and grunted as he put it on, leaving the rest of his gear on the floor.

“Take it easy, and please, if you need anything, know I’m here.”

He didn’t reply and limped towards the door. Gabriel didn’t like the idea of him leaving in the shape he was, even after the patch job, but it’s not like he could mount a protest. Jack being stubborn was a rarity – that was usually Gabriel’s specialty – and oh, how he wished he could capitalize on it.

_Fuck._

Jack stopped in the entryway, looking over his shoulder at Angela. “I have something else to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t care what anyone says. Make sure he gets a proper funeral, one fit for a soldier.”

“I will.” She paused. “You won’t be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, but don’t look for me.”

“Where will you go Jack?”

With one last look of longing at Gabriel, and a few more tears, he offered one word in reply, “Goodbye.”

Then Jack left.

Gabriel tried to follow him. He needed to find a way to reach Jack, to let him know he wasn’t fucking alone, but he couldn’t escape the proximity of his corpse, and was forced to watch the man he loved walk away.

Gabriel screamed. No one heard him.

Angela reached into an interior pocket of her jacket, removing a circular, yellow case. She removed her standard communicator, and slid a new one in her ear, pressing on it with an index finger. “I need a pick up. There will be a subject with me,” she glanced at the gear Jack had left, “and some items in need of disposal.”

A voice on the other end said, “Confirmed Doctor Ziegler. We’ll be there shortly. The secondary facility is online and ready to receive. We’re loading the back-ups from the main facility now.”

“This does, of course, carry a top secret classification,” she said.

“Understood.”

 _Who the hell are you calling a subject, Doc?_ He heard himself growl. The two of them were alike in another way: they both knew how to do what it took to get the job done, whatever it was. They were ruthless, even if their intentions were good. Gabriel wanted nothing to do with her plan, but he knew he didn’t have a choice, and that felt worse. 

                                                                       

* * *

 

The room Gabriel had been stuck in was about as welcoming as a morgue; painted in metallic greys and artificial whites, it was likely as cold as his corpse. He’d known about Angelas’s ancillary facilities. They were UN sanctioned for medical research, and located off-grid, buried in some patch of forlorn ground as she’d often dealt with dangerous microbial agents and other heinous shit no one would want too close to the general populace. He’d never been to one before, never needed to, but expected, given her bright personality, they’d look a bit more welcoming and less like a fucking Omnium.

Computer screens and their controls packed the walls, letting off a cool blue glow that reminded him too much of Jack. There were masses of power cables, all neatly bound and secured, running to the center of the room where his corpse lay, naked on a metal slab save for a strategically placed towel. Some of the cables ran beneath the slab, while others to the bases of looming robotic arms; the ones with the surgical lasers. A large scanning unit for medical diagnostics was positioned in the ceiling above. Machines surrounded him. He’d been in and out of the hospital enough times to recognize them as life support equipment, and he was hooked up to them all, skin punctured by tubes. He had also been intubated.

_What the fuck does she need any of that for? I'm dead. Been dead for a while now._

Earlier, Angela had carefully closed his wounds, removing any lingering shrapnel, and washing away the layers of blood on his dark brown skin. She even went so far as to bandage him. His corpse could have been sleeping if he didn’t know better.

The automatic door to the room slid open and a lab-coat wearing Angela came in with a hovering cart. On top of it was her Caduceus Staff, but it had been taken apart. An unfamiliar module had been connected to the forward area, and there were small cables running off it, each tipped with a sizably uncomfortable needle.

She aligned the cart so it was parallel to his corpse and carefully set each one, five in total, beneath his skin: two in his wrist, two in his thighs, and one in his neck. Angela then secured them with tape. He heard her sigh, and she looked down at him, running a thumb over his brow and brushing his curls. Jack used to do the same thing.

“I’m sorry Gabriel. I don’t know if this is going to work, but I can’t remain idle. I want to help you, and Jack, and anyone else it may. You shouldn’t have died.”

The realization of her intent struck him when she activated the staff, its golden beam corrupted red.

He was no longer everywhere. He was no longer nowhere. Dragged back into his body, all he felt was pain. Gabriel screamed, eyes wide enough they should have burst. It had been a bad idea, an oversight, not to have strapped him down, because Gabriel reached up and grabbed Angela by her lab coat, forcing her face to meet his. Their noses touched. He wanted to tear her throat out, but the thought fled at the onslaught of more pain. His heart pounded in his ears beside the rhythmic thrum of a monitor.

“Gabriel, it’s alright.” She gently placed a palm against his chest, trying to remain composed, but the tears formed anyway, “Lie still.”

He barely heard her. His nerves burned, smothering his other senses. _What did she do? What did she do!_

Engulfing, unbearable, the pain transformed into hatred. And in that haze of red the world dimmed into blackness.

“Please, not again. You can’t,” Angela said, the life support systems crying out around them. “No. No. Gabriel!”

Gabriel left that time accompanied by the ominous drone of a flat line.      

 

* * *

                                                                             

It seemed darkness would be his only companion. Gabriel was awake, sure, but to what degree he was alive was subject for debate. He’d died twice in less than a day, or at least he thought he did. He must have. Why else would he be stuck where he was? His friends had put him in his dress uniform, stuffed him in a fancy box, and fucking _buried_ him.

He slammed his knuckles into the casket lid. It didn’t hurt. Physical sensations were dull, he noticed, but the churn of rage and hatred in his chest was more painful than anything his nerves could, and had, produced.

_They left me here._

Something in the casket glowed red.

_I’m alive and they left me here!_

His hands became fists, and from them billowed wisps of smoke. Gabriel laughed nervously, at first not believing what he was seeing or how he was seeing it. He watched the flesh on his hands – which were already disgustingly scarred and burned, as if he’d been fried from the inside – dissolve into that smoke, and when his bones did the same the sound that came out of his mouth was somewhere between laughing and screaming. He felt his body jump, and he was suddenly no longer in the casket, instead hovering above his own grave, surrounded by thousands more.

The wind carried through trees, rustling branches. He heard nothing else, realizing he was alone. He didn’t know how long it had been since his funeral.

Gabriel looked down at his hands, at his body, and saw he was made of smoke and inky tendrils loosely put together in a human shape. _What is this?_ “Jack,” he said aloud, “What is this?” His form billowed, intensifying with his hatred. “Angela did this. Jack, why did you have to say what you did? Look at me. Would you still do anything to have me back?” Gabriel chuckled, and it soon became a cackle, low and hollow, echoing through the field of dead. “You did this Jack. You left me and now I’m... I’m this… thing.” He growled. “ _You coward_.”      

Gabriel cradled his head in his hands, which had large with fingers that ended in points. Part of him wanted to explode, to lash out in all directions and destroy everything while the rest of him just wanted to dissolve into nothing. He almost went with the latter until another feeling took over, more intense than he’d ever known.

He was hungry, starving even, and it masked all else. He lifted his head and could suddenly feel pulses, heartbeats maybe, and off in the distance he saw a mass of shifting red light. Drawn like a moth he started to drift towards it.

Revenge could wait.

He needed to _consume_.

 

 **END CHAPTER 1**  

 

* * *

 

_Twice dead._

_Once alive._

_A soul betrayed,_

_Will never die._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written a fanfiction in like twelve years, so I hope it was a good start. This was going to be a one shot story but, as I have the next five chapters outlined, I guess that's not happening. I'm uncertain how long this will go, but it does have a planned ending. Alternate summary for this work is: "I love Gabriel Mother Fucking Reyes".
> 
> Thanks to my buddy Mel for beta reading this as I drag her into Reaper76 Hell.
> 
> I draw art for this pairing, as well as original stuff on my [Tumblr](http://kerrigore.tumblr.com).
> 
> \-------  
> 11/12/17 
> 
> NOTE: This fic was written back when we had almost zero information on the explosion, on Jack and Gabe, on anything, really, so the plot is molded to work with the canon I had at the time. It was an attempt to make what existed actually work and write a good story. I am pleased as punch that it's been confirmed that they were very close up until whatever happened during Overwatch's fall, that jealous Gabe was not a thing, that it was Jack's defense of everything Gabe did (even when it was something bad) that somehow pushed them apart. However, even knowing what canon is now, I'm not updating this fic to reflect that, because I feel the work I did with Blizzard's not so good plot (at the time) speaks for itself.


	2. Night Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something bad is happening to Gabriel Reyes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been updated as of 5/5/17. The story has remained unchanged.

Washington DC was particularly bright that evening and not just bright; Gabriel would have called it pulsing. He was bombarded by the current of thousands, sensing the minute shifts of every body, the beats of every heart, and the vibrations of every voice. It was overwhelming, and Gabriel remained, masked in the comforting darkness of an alleyway, trying to calm the fuck down. He wasn’t doing a very good job, and his growing frustration only made it worse.

Gabriel had always been calm and collected on the battlefield, even as enemies advanced from all sides. Operating under pressure was something he’d always excelled at, and he’d been that way long before the enhancement program, long before he’d met Jack. So why then was he failing so _badly_?

_Get it together Gabriel._

Not possible. His thoughts were helplessly panicked and his body had lost all sense of form, becoming a writhing mass of shifting smoke which knocked into loose garbage strewn about the alley. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, and was greeted by the image of Jack’s stupid smile. His body unleashed a tendril, putting a hole through a rusted part of a nearby dumpster.

Gabriel tried to sigh but instead came a growl, rumbling from the depths of, well, he didn’t really know, but it sounded like he’d swallowed a bag of rocks and maybe a cement mixer for good measure.

The hunger hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was intensified by all of the surrounding energy, tugging at him from every direction, and it wasn’t until he was brought to the point of pain that he finally listened.

The world dulled to a handful of pulses, and he saw swirls of energy: deep orange and vibrant crimson coalesced into vague human shapes. He focused, selecting one on the top floor of an adjacent apartment building. The energy was more concentrated in the central mass, slowly dancing as if it were flame. Gabriel was enticed by its movements, lulled even, and it wasn’t long before his body responded, drifting up the wall in a methodical slither.

As he approached his movements quickened, becoming more erratic, and Gabriel realized that whatever that energy was his present form needed. And he craved it.

He found a spider crack in the apartment window, pushing himself through with surprising ease and pouring into the room through a set of closed blinds. He didn’t really get a look at the place, vision tunneling on the source of his fixation on the couch. Gabriel lunged, washing over his target, which jumped up and frantically batted its hands as if it were trying to defend against a swarm of bees. Gabriel felt the unmistakable warmth of flesh as it passed through his smoke.

The soft ethereal wisps became tangible, like fine sand, as he latched onto the core of the energy and pulled. There was a scream, and Gabriel felt his body react by forcing part of itself into his target’s throat and nose, down into the lungs, choking desperate pleas. The energy he so desperately needed fought against him, seeming to have a will of its own; a will to remain anchored. But Gabriel broke that will, tearing it away with the splatter of wet flesh and the shatter of bone.

He readily absorbed what he’d taken, and for the first time in days felt alive again. He’d never been one for drugs, but he’d had more than enough adrenaline highs in his decorated career to realize that, whatever he’d absorbed, was infinitely better.

His vision darted and he spotted another energy source in the next unit. The pained cry of a male voice rung out in his mind, but he ignored it, diving into a vent. He was on his next target before he could think. The removal process was the same, though the energy came easier that time; another rush, the thud of a body hitting the floor, and he was off to the next apartment to do it again. Eight people, the floor’s Friday night shut-ins, died before Gabriel was able to stop, the hunger fading to leave him in control once more.

Gabriel felt… normal. He looked down and saw his feet. Wait. He had feet? He had hands? Gabriel palmed himself to discover he somehow had a body. _He had flesh._ It wasn’t the same rich brown he was used to, but a lighter sickly shade tinged by an ashen hue. There were also shifting patches of necrotic darkness, which did nothing but accentuate his blood vessels and bring up questions.

He darted around the apartment in search of a mirror, which he found in a hideous coral-colored bathroom. When he saw himself, he did a double take, pressing his palms flat into the sink counter to keep from falling over. He leaned forward, as if getting closer to the mirror would somehow make what he was staring at less noticeable.

_I’m a fucking zombie. Some kind of seriously fucked up zombie._

He laughed a little, uneasy. Gabriel was in some kind of nightmare. He had to be asleep. Maybe he and Jack had just got done watching some shitty horror flick and… No, scratch that, he’d gotten bored during it and zonked out on Jack’s shoulder. That was it.

_Wake the fuck up Gabriel._

But nothing changed. The left side of his face was mostly muscle and threads of taut skin barely holding together a semblance of form. His tongue, blackened, slid over sharp, wicked-looking teeth to poke through one of the many holes in his cheek, as if he’d rotted. The eyes that stared back at him weren’t his. They weren’t brown. They wouldn’t catch the sun to reveal subtle hints of autumn, of ochre and rust. Instead, they were inhuman, irises sanguine against inky sclera, and there were more than he was supposed to have. Six extra in total, they were arranged around his left eye, sunken at different angles as if the flesh around them was melting. He touched one of them, and the eyelids of all closed.

Gabriel flinched, habitually running his shaking fingers through his hair. His curls were still there, but some of them seemed to dissolve into shadow, a fine mist drifting from his head.

His body wasn’t in much better shape. A ghost of what he’d known, it too was full of holes, skin around them appearing as if it had been seared away by an intensely hot flame. Through them he could see unfinished tissue and organs, most coated in a slick black substance, which teemed like a colony of ants. He resisted the urge to touch it, his fingertips instead caressing exposed ribs, then moving to familiar scars, many of which had been split open, thick, black smoke lazily drifting from them as it would off the end of a cigarette.

What struck him most, however, was not any of that, but the stark Y-shaped scar stitched into his chest and abdomen. All of his eyes widened in solidarity at the irrefutable knowledge he’d died. He swallowed hard. His mouth was dry.

_Angela… Couldn’t resist cutting me open to see what you did wrong, could you?_

It hit him then how much he hated her. She’d torn him from his death, from peace, not once, but twice and turned him into a creature he couldn’t rightly call human. Tears fell. Gabriel slammed a fist into the mirror.

He felt it, but the sensation was dull, and when he pulled his hand back he saw that slick blackness oozing from his knuckles, but only briefly. It retreated into his body, and slowly the skin closed behind it.

_What the…_

It wasn’t blood. Couldn’t have been. He’d been buried. The embalmer would have drained his sorry carcass of all fluids before the service.

_What is this?_

Gabriel’s gaze drifted to his exposed ribs. He turned to let some light shine between them and saw that while he had a heart, it wasn’t beating. His lungs appeared to be working, though he exhaled smoke, which curled from the corners of his mouth. He looked at his hands again, furrowing his brow.

He hadn’t noticed it before, what with the amount of freaking out he’d been doing over his sad excuse for a body, but there was bright red spatter on his hands that obviously wasn’t his. Gabriel steadied himself, carefully examining his skin where he found more, some smeared, on his palms, forearms, and chest. Gabriel slowly turned his head.

A trail of drops, though not many, ran into the bathroom and he cautiously followed it out into the apartment. It wound through a hallway, out into the living area, and into an open kitchen. On the floor, surrounded by the remnants of a broken plate and that evening’s dinner was a body.

It had been a woman, though Gabriel couldn’t even hazard a guess at her age. Her form was withered, skin pale, and contorted by wrinkles. Gangly arms with gnarled fingers already set in rigor were drawn to her chest, and her mouth hung open in a perpetual scream. She had very little mass; mostly skin and bones as if she’d been mummified.

Gabriel felt his chest tighten, panic setting in. He’d seen death before. He could say he was used to it, especially after Blackwatch, but nothing he’d seen or dished out – not the gun deaths, not the asphyxiations, not even the indiscriminate cruelty of an Omnic – was anything like what lay before him.

Any fragment of calm he still had dissolved with his body as he dove through a nearby vent, retracing his steps to each apartment he’d entered. The state of the bodies he’d left in his wake of hunger became messier and more violent as he drew closer to the first; evidence of a killer perfecting his technique. By the time he got there, he was doubled over, dry heaving. He wanted desperately to throw up but highly doubted, based on his heart, that his stomach was actually functional. Hell, what did he even need it for anymore? His body seemed to be perfectly satisfied by _eating people._

_What did I do? What the fuck did I do!_

Gabriel shook, on his hands and knees, staring at the floor. Blood had seeped into the carpet, edges near his fingers. The corpse beside him was barely recognizable, ribcage torn open like a coin purse, revealing an empty chest cavity. Viscera were strewn around the living room in a violent fury, hanging from furniture and stuck to the walls. Everything below the torso was gone, remaining flesh having been shredded down to the small remnant of a pelvic bone, as if someone had gone at it with a sandblaster, stripping each layer. The same effect was evident on the corpse’s arms; fingers just bone and sinew, wrists and forearms bare muscle, and above, still intact skin.

“How?” Gabriel said meekly. “What the fuck did I do to these people? Angela,” his fingers pressed into the carpet, “what did you make me into?” Gabriel gasped. Smoke flowed from his lips. His next words were pleading and pathetic, “Jack,” tears fell, meeting with his victim’s blood, “where did you go?”

 _I’ll always be there for you Gabe._ Jack’s words rung out in his mind, echoing, hollow.

“Then why aren’t you here?”

Jack laughed. _Because you’re a monster._

“No…” Gabriel shook his head.

Jack’s voice quieted and was replaced by voices Gabriel didn’t immediately recognize. He saw memories that weren’t his: an image of a father with his son, of best friends laughing, a fishing trip, a shopping excursion, a vacation to Paris. The happiness those people felt filled his mind briefly, and he was granted a moment of calm before he was assaulted by flashes of violence. He saw everyone he’d killed; the memories of their deaths and of him: a mass of swarming darkness tearing through their bodies to consume what they held most dear.

Gabriel’s forehead dropped to the carpet and he held the sides of his head, fingers entwining and tugging at his curls. “Go away. Get out of my head. You don’t belong there! Please… Leave me alone!”

It didn’t stop. He kept seeing them, hearing them, feeling them, and as his distress grew so did the amount of smoke billowing from his body.

“Jack,” Gabriel sobbed. “I need you.” His split scars grew, cutting through his flesh, a red glow emitting from them. Gabriel didn’t feel it. All of the pain was in his head and chest, and he trembled as he cried, “I don’t want to be this.” The skin of his hands blackened as if coated in tar, moving up to his biceps, smoke dancing like an excited flame, waiting to see what it would get to burn. “I’m not a monster.” His fingers elongated, ending in vicious claws. He raked the floor, and when he realized what he was doing, covered his head instead. “I’m not a monster, Jack. Please don’t walk away from me… Jack? Jack!”

Gabriel unleashed the pain he’d built up, his cry deepening into a resonant wail, reflective of what he’d feared he’d become. He didn’t notice how his smoke had transformed into tendrils, or how they writhed, slashing at air. He didn’t notice anything other than the desperate need to get away from what was happening to him. Gabriel curled up, drawing his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. He forced his way past the invading memories and tried to focus on one of his own.

 

* * *

Jack had been unusually quiet that evening. They’d filed back into their quarters after returning to base with the okay from medical. Gabriel assumed he’d been so exhausted by their last mission that he’d fallen asleep without so much as a goodnight, which was rare for him. Gabriel shrugged it off.

He was close to following Jack on the whole sleep thing, lying in the top bunk of their not so spacious room jamming out to his personal mix of various classic rock and metal bands. He sung to it quietly, as he often did, which he’d learned Jack found soothing, having fallen asleep to it many times even though Gabriel never considered his singing to actually be any good. Their living arrangement had been part of the enhancement program’s whole ‘be one with your partner’ mantra, which he’d vehemently railed against at the start, having been saddled with a particular pain in the ass golden boy whom he’d recently grown very fond of.

Gabriel yawned through a smile and shut off his music, removing his ear buds and sliding the whole thing into his beanie, which sat near his pillow. He then leaned over the edge of the bunk, poking his head to peer into the one below, checking on Jack as he habitually did.

“The hell are you still doing up?” he said.

Jack was sitting up in his bed, back to the wall, blanket wrapped around his body and over his head so only his face was visible. He didn’t answer, but his eyes met Gabriel’s briefly before they cast downward.

“Jack?” Gabriel asked, still upside down. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing Gabe. Go to sleep.”

“Shit.” Gabriel got down from the top bunk and slid into Jack’s, sitting beside him. “I’d asked if you were alright after we got on the helicopter, and I didn’t believe you then, but I let it slide. Looking at you now I don’t think I should have. So, what is it? We had a clean mission, minimal resistance, the hostage is safe, and–”

“I killed someone.”

“Oh.” Gabriel turned his head, frowning a little. Jack had been green to any real combat, while Gabriel had already been a seasoned Marine before he’d joined, and had seen his fair share, spilled his fair share. He should have been pushier before. “First time?”

Jack nodded.

He thought about giving him the ‘we’re soldiers, it’s what’s expected’ speech, or telling Jack he’d saved an innocent woman’s life, but Jack knew both of those already, and Gabriel had a hunch that what bothered him was something deeper, so instead he said, “Talk to me Jack. I’m here.”

“It was,” Jack pulled the blanket around him tighter, “easy.” He went silent for a moment. “I’d wondered, since I joined the program, if I’d actually be able to do it when the time came. When I realized he wasn’t going to let go of the hostage I took the shot, no hesitation, no thought. I just pulled the trigger and down he went.”

“It was a good shot,” Gabriel assured.

“I know, and it had to be done, but…” Jack took a deep breath and leaned against Gabriel’s side, “I’m afraid, Gabe. Taking someone’s life shouldn’t have been that easy, or easy at all, even with my training, even if that someone was a criminal, and I wonder, what does that make me?”

“Human, Jack. It makes you human.” Jack shifted closer to Gabriel, resting against his chest. His cheeks were warm. He’d blushed. Gabriel smirked and put both arms around him. “I’d be worried if you didn’t feel anything about it.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Every time.” It wasn’t quite a lie. He did _feel_ when he took a life; it just wasn’t fear of consequence. Gabriel, if anything felt accomplished, knowing he’d completed his mission, doing a little bit of silent good by wiping out of another piece of scum in order to protect innocents. He didn’t dwell, didn’t let it affect him like Jack did, though he understood. “But, I know the reward is greater than the cost. You and I, we’ve got great things ahead, can make a difference in the world like you’ve been endlessly gushing.”

“You think so?”

Gabe nodded.

“You’re starting to sound like me,” Jack’s voice sang, pushing his head beneath Gabriel’s chin.

Gabriel snorted. “Maybe if you weren’t so close to me all the time I wouldn’t be picking up your idealist crap.” He glanced down to see Jack crack a smile. Gabriel tapped a finger against his head. “Don’t you fucking tell anyone though; I’ll rip your tongue out.”

“Oh, but you’d miss it.” Jack said coyly.

Gabriel grunted. The smug little shit.

 Jack continued. “And here I thought you were just an insufferable hard ass, Gabe. Turns out there’s some compassion in there after all.” Jack placed a palm over Gabriel’s heart.

“Insufferable?” Gabriel’s brow quirked. “Oh no Jackie, that title strictly belongs to you.”

 Jack lightly punched Gabriel’s chest. They both laughed.

“Gabe?” Jack’s voice got quiet. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving you Jackie.” He squeezed him. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Thank you.”

They shifted, lying down in the same position. Jack’s head rested comfortably in the crook of Gabriel’s neck, and as Gabriel pulled the covers around them he remembered how warm he’d felt then, how content with his life he used to be, and woke to the realization he’d likely never be again.  


* * *

 

Gabriel stared absently at the empty space beside him.

_This isn’t helping. Get the fuck up._

He growled, hating himself. He hadn’t broken down like that in a long time, and having done so only made him remember things he’d rather forget. Gabriel sat up, glancing at the body only to nearly fall over again. The damn thing was gone. The blood too. And the guts.

Gabriel put a hand to his forehead, but quickly drew it back at the touch of his clawed fingers, twitching. He stood, heading towards the bathroom. Showers had always helped him calm down – one of the few things that did aside from Jack, music, or shooting some hoops. He needed to think, but first he had to rid himself of the death that stuck to his skin. He wanted every trace of them gone, at least the ones he could remove.

The eight innocent lives he took lingered on the surface of his thoughts, undisturbed reflections in churning waters. He clenched his teeth. He’d done more than just kill them. It was ridiculous, but how else could he explain it, having been one himself, forced to watch Jack mourn him?

_Did I really take their souls?_

Gabriel stopped in the doorway to try and do a prayer. It had been awhile. While Gabriel wasn’t very religious himself – there was something about Omnics shredding through comrades like tissue paper that didn’t exactly exude his faith in God – he’d grown up around it, vividly recalling his _abuela_ dragging him out of bed at ungodly hours to attend church when he was a kid. He spoke in a hushed tone, head bowed, wondering if there was anyone, or anything, out there to listen, but really, did it even matter? If he’d had any shot at redemption before, and that was a big fucking if, he’d certainly blown it.

He watched a curl of smoke drift in front of his nose and got into a dead man’s shower. Most of the holes in his chest were gone. What remained were his scars, still split open, still glowing red. The water was cold... maybe? If so he couldn’t tell by how much. His nerves seemed fairly non-functional, and he’d hoped that would stop soon; the numbness made him feel emptier than he already was.

After the shower he’d gone into the bedroom and dug through the closet for something to wear, eventually finding a dark grey hoodie and sweatpants. He instinctively put the hood up. Gabriel missed his beanie. It was a dumb thing to think about then, but no one had had the good sense to bury him with it, not even Jesse, who he wasn't entirely sure had even attended. He guessed it was a blessing, as his clothes hadn’t survived his body’s meltdown.

Scarcely knowing what to do, he wandered out into the kitchen, taking a seat at a bar stool and stared at his hands, which hadn’t returned to normal. Hah, normal. _No such thing as that shit anymore._

The gleam of a meat cleaver further down the counter caught his eye. Gabriel laid a hand flat and pushed up his sleeve as far as it would go before grabbing it. He drummed his claws.

_Probably a bad idea Gabe…_

He rested the edge of the blade on his wrist, clenched his teeth, and slammed it down. A thunk echoed against stone. Gabriel’s expression soured to disgust. The cleaver had gone right through, stumps ethereal shadows that melded back together seconds after. He’d felt nothing and flexed his fingers. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy…

It became apparent to Gabriel that he really had no control over his situation, and though he wanted nothing to do with her, there really was only one person who had answers, who could maybe even help fix the mistake he’d become. He just wasn’t certain he could see her face to face and not try to strangle her. Just thinking about Angela made him livid. But, what choice did he have? It was her fault, and he’d be damned, more than he already was, if she wasn’t going to fix it.

**END CHAPTER 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: "Gabe Stop Eating People".
> 
> I'm blaming visor76 for me taking the chapter in this direction. It wasn't my original plan, but it worked out rather well, so, thank you for the suggestion of exploring the transition into Reaper.
> 
> Also, many thanks to my buddy Mel for betaing this for me and for putting up with my love of Gabriel Reyes and this fandom. I'm deep in the Reaper76 hole, and I'm not leaving anytime soon.
> 
> There will be an explanation of his affliction in the next chapter, but know I'm not done as it is a progression. His condition is only going to get worse.
> 
> On another note, I have no expectation of Blizzard making this pair canon, though my queerer-than-a-tree-full-of-monkeys-on-nitrous-oxide self is hopeful, even just a little bit with the small amount of story crumbs they've fed us. While I'd love Reaper to get a proper story, I'm not sure what the Overwatch team has planned for him. However, as I do believe Gabriel Reyes (and all of the wonderful fan interpretations of him I've had the pleasure of seeing) is a complex character and unquestionably deserves a complex story, I've boarded the "fuck canon" train and decided to do my best to give him and Jack some justice.
> 
> Thanks (have I said that enough yet?) a ton for reading, I appreciate all of the comments, kudos, and feedback, and I hope you'll stick with me. If you happen to see an error in the text, send me a note on my [Tumblr](http://kerrigore.tumblr.com) so I can fix it.


	3. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel goes to find the one person who might be able to give him some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been updated as of 12/7/17. The story has remained unchanged.
> 
> Tagging this for suicide.

Angela hadn’t been hard to find with the Zürich explosion being the headline of everyone’s news, but it took some digging given the media’s focus.

Gabriel had nearly smashed the tablet he’d stolen, as every article he’d read somehow – because of course they did – managed to prominently feature the recently deceased Strike Commander Morrison and adorn him with praise for his outstanding service to the world, oftentimes neglecting to mention the scandal or any of the negative bits about Overwatch, including Blackwatch. But hey, Golden Boy’s gotta shine even when he’s six feet under, and to Gabriel, he might as well be. In most of the garbage Gabriel’s name barely warranted an honorable mention, appearing only when coupled with classics like: “also among the deceased was”, or “will be honored for his service”, or, his favorite, “who was buried beside Jack Morrison”.

He’d scoffed. In the past he and Jack had decided that’s what they’d wanted when they finally checked out, but the sentimentality behind the notion hadn’t brought Gabriel any peace. Instead, the words on the tablet screen had just pissed him off. He’d never be recognized for his own merits, on his own terms, always hidden behind the pretty white boy with the blue eyes and million-dollar smile. Why would death have made it any different?  The inevitable universal equalizer hadn’t done shit. The only solace he’d had was his anger, reflexive to be sure, but at least when Gabriel was angry he didn’t think about what weighed down his thoughts, what threatened to drown him, what he’d left behind in DC…

In his search he’d discovered Angela had been sequestered by the UN for a series of interrogations shortly after his funeral, and briefly wondered who she’d interacted with. A small press had caught wind that she’d intended to return to Switzerland when the proceedings were done, so Gabriel had stowed away in the cargo hold of some passenger jet (content to have found at least one benefit of being able to turn into smoke). He’d learned that while he could reform his body from his ethereal state, he was also able to reform his clothes and whatever else he had on him, having tested it on items he’d found while rifling through people’s luggage.

He’d ditched the dead man’s hoodie and sweatpants, wanting badly for them to simply disappear, and his body, having responded to his desires, made it so. He’d watched his smoke devour the items, eroding them from his sight. Gabriel had found a much nicer track jacket with a hood big enough to hide his face, a pair of jeans, which fit him surprisingly well, and some very expensive sneakers that were sure to be missed. The ride was long, and when he found he couldn’t sleep – wasn’t just his usual unwillingness to waste that kind of time, but his body didn’t seem to actually be able to – he ended up amusing himself by reading an ancient copy of _Slaughter House Five_ he’d pulled from a floral print suitcase. When the plane finally landed, he’d snuck off, leaving no a trace of his presence, letting the blame fall on airport security.

Zürich was still beautiful at night, Gabriel mused, at least looking north of the Limmat River, where the city thrived, rebuilt from the warzone, predictably normal except for the recent void in its skyline. He tried not to think of the explosion, and pictured the base still standing. He and Jack were up on the roof, just lying there in one of the rare moments of calm in their relationship, enjoying each other’s company and gazing up at the stars.

_Fuck you, Jack._

Gabriel shook his head and walked along the river, dark waters reflecting a shifting haze of multicolored light. He had no intention of getting any closer to the lives that occupied the city. His hunger was sated, but he didn’t know for how long, and he didn’t want anyone else to have to die, especially if he could be fixed.

He’d have to find a ride out of Zürich. While Angela had a place in the city, it wasn’t where she’d go, not when she was under so much stress, especially the kind from guilt. He’d briefly debated leaving her alone to spare her the shock of what he’d become, but his need for answers quickly outweighed his compassion. Angela’s parents had owned, and on their deaths passed down, a getaway home a couple of hours away in some mountain town he couldn’t pronounce, but would remember if he saw it again.

Overwatch’s most overworked had gone there on the Christmases when they didn’t have to be stationed at base or stuck on a mission with the one rule that no one spoke of business, and it had been a welcome reprieve, even if the trips only lasted a few days at most. Three years before, and several prior, Angela had had a hell of a time getting him and Jack to occupy the same space, especially without help from Ana. He remembered them both trying their damnedest to get drunk off 90 proof vodka – which was next to impossible given how fast their bodies metabolized alcohol –, and eventually acted like drunkards anyway, getting into a fist fight, and destroying the Christmas tree. Somehow it had resulted in them spending the night together, and if they’d had their way the two of them wouldn’t have left that bed for days. _We should have stayed._

He laughed quietly to himself, a sinister snicker, as if he were mocking the whole situation. Why was he still bothering to waste thoughts on a man who’d abandoned him? _Because he's your sun_ _, and you love him so much it hurts._

And he did hurt. Actually, his body ached, and then it burned as if all of his nerves had switched on at once. Gabriel was brought to the ground, screaming into the river bank, forehead pressed in the silt. The pain came in successive waves, crashing against every cell of his being, tearing him apart and rebuilding him in an instant. He dug his clawed hands into the back of his skull to try and distract himself, but the sudden onslaught was far too much and Gabriel dissolved. Existing as smoke still hurt, but it hurt less, like being pierced by the tips of thousands of tiny needles instead of being blown apart over and over again. It gave him enough of a reprieve to gather himself, and he wandered into the ruined part of Zürich, ending up in a basement.

 _Fuck._ He’d lied. Gabriel would rather be numb than in his present state. Pain hadn’t been an issue for him before; he’d built a career out of it, having been good at managing it, but then again, he’d had help – help from Jack who’d doted on him back when it all was still good, help from Ana who’d always made him some Egyptian herbal tea when he really needed to relax (she knew, she always did), help from Jesse who’d manage to make him crack a smile when he was trying his hardest not to, and help from Angela who’d sewn him back together more times than he cared to count. His own strength had pulled him through a lot, sure, but something just felt wrong without the back up. A lone soldier in the throes of battle was as good as dead without his unit.

Gabriel tried reforming, only to sublimate after mere seconds from the sheer amount of pain. Why had his body decided it was time for him to hurt again? He wondered what would happen if he remained as he was, and as he pondered a sense of fear crept into the shadows of his thoughts. What if he stayed that way, stuck as a writhing mass of corrupted smoke, unable to do anything again but devour people? A tremor shot through him and his form billowed. Human wasn’t something he could ever truly be again, but he’d be fooling himself if taking the shape didn’t give him some sense of security, even if it was fleeting. He just wanted to be _him_ again, to be as close to Gabriel Reyes as he could be, and it was that glimmer of hope, that need to get to Angela, that drove him forward.

He started small and reformed his hand, getting used to that pain as best he could before he solidified other parts of himself, though he wouldn’t remain for long, seeking the relief of his smoke form. Gabriel stayed in that basement surrounded by dust-coated relics – pieces of a Bastion connected by cobwebs, an old cot riddled with bullet holes, and mountains of boxes covered in creeping mold and suspicious dark spatter – for days, even longer, slowly increasing the amount of time he could stay solid by working up to it in increments. The pain didn’t get better, but he got better at dealing with it.

It wasn’t until he could walk without his legs threatening to collapse with each step did he try to leave. In the moonlight, Gabriel saw a fine black mist curling from his fingertips and rolling from the edges of his jacket sleeves to blend with the night sky. _There’s more of it now…_ A chuckle escaped his lips, dark and resounding. _Burning, burning all’s not well, burning, burning, I’m in Hell._ Gabriel was becoming convinced of that, knowing well that Hell wasn’t a place but a state of being. His head rolled to the side. Funny how an angel had put him there.

He hummed a tune and strolled through the empty street, enjoying the calm around him in contrast to the agony that wracked his body. Every second he spent in it made him want to scream again, but he clenched his teeth and bared it like a good fucking solider, as he’d come to accept he had no other option. Gabriel laughed a bit more, because at least he could still do that without feeling weak and beaten down, and he slowly slipped back into a familiar facet of himself, where he’d tune out everything and focus on, with machine-like efficiency, the task of not falling apart.

The state of shock over his predicament, his curse as he’d taken to calling it, had dulled and simmered into a steady hatred. There were a lot of people he wanted to blame and to hurt for what he’d become, but the person at the top of his list, above all others was himself. He still couldn’t get the screams of the innocents he’d murdered out of his head, or their memories, and the thought of having to feed again sickened him. How weak was he? Gabriel should have been able to control himself… to stop himself… He’d worked to save people once, took pride in it, but now…

Across the river, the light of thousands of souls filtered through his vision. A pang of hunger rose, but he fought, and fought hard, to push it back down. Not tonight. Not ever if he had his way. Gabriel shook his head as he slowly headed to the north end of the city in search of a ride.

He kept to the shadows as he scoured the back lots and side streets, settling on an underground parking garage. Stealth was second nature to Gabriel, but damn, so many missions would have gone better, perhaps flawlessly, with the kind of power he possessed. Immediately, he felt terrible for trying to pull anything good from his transformation. He didn’t deserve it.

A wraith beneath flickering lights Gabriel descended a few levels, locating a hover car to fit his needs: an old navy blue Foehn 6, one of the most reliable models in the line, looking well-kept despite it being over fifteen years old. The owner had even been kind enough to add window tints. Gabriel fed himself into an air vent, reformed in the driver’s seat, and tore off a panel with his claws. He smiled at his find. In addition to not being a piece of shit the Foehn 6 had a reputation in underground circles of being one of the easiest to steal, and in minutes he had it purring. Being sure to disable the GPS, he pulled out of the space and left the parking garage with only a vague recollection of how to get to Angela’s.

 

* * *

 

The vacation home looked like it belonged on some billboard pandering to tourists with too much money and even more free time. A two story wooden – meaning too old and shouldn’t still be standing – lodge with a raised deck above the entrance on the second floor and huge bay windows loomed in the distance. He remembered how light used to show through them, illuminating the yard with a soft golden hue, but that night they were dark, curtains pulled over as if no one were there. Gabriel knew better, catching a single crimson glow behind its walls. He’d ditched the car in the woods off the single-lane road he’d used to get up there, and floated silently over the long driveway, a specter in the night. Snow-capped mountains towered behind the lodge and the dark irregular shapes of pine trees guarded it, keeping it mostly hidden.

Gabriel tried to get in through the crack beneath the front door, but it had been sealed well. He didn’t have much luck with the windows either, lifting his head to eye the chimney. _Fuck if I’m getting up there_ … He pictured himself standing on top of it though, and before he knew what was going on his form jerked towards it, and then, he actually was. His body had reformed and he held his arms out, nearly losing his balance as he teetered backwards. _Shit._

Instead of falling off the roof, he shifted and dove down the chimney. Light flowed into the dark living room from the kitchen and Gabriel heard the clatter of dishes as he slithered into an armchair across from the entryway on the edge of the light, which seemed to shy away from him. He grasped the armrests, claws puncturing the upholstery, hood pulled down as far as it could go, leaving only the faint red glow of his eyes to illuminate the damage to his face. Wisps of smoke poured from his mouth and nose, seething from his shoulders to blur the outline of his body.

When Angela entered the room she was holding a steaming mug between her hands. She wore a red turtle neck sweater and her bare feet stuck out of a pair of flannel pajama pants a few sizes too big. Her hair was down, tossed over her right shoulder in a disheveled manner. It was clear she hadn’t slept much. That made two of them.

Angel jumped when she laid eyes on him, but kept hold of her mug, taking a step back into the doorway. She froze. “Why are you in my house? Who are you?” He watched her cautiously reach behind her, the fabric of her sweater shifting as she pulled a pistol from the waistband of her pajamas, clicking off the safety and aiming it at him. Someone was paranoid. In the back of his mind he wondered why.

“Is that how you treat friends Angela?” he said.

Her expression twisted in confusion. He knew his voice had changed, but was he really that unrecognizable? “Who _are_ you?”

Gabriel held out his palms as he spoke. Angela stared at his claws. “Someone you tried to save when you should have just let me go.” He rose slowly. “You were supposed to do no harm,” his tone mocked, “but look at all of the damage you’ve done.” Gabriel pulled down his hood and stepped into the light.

Her mug hit the floor first, pieces scattering between them, and she dropped to her knees, gun leaving her hand when she covered her mouth. Angela’s voice shook. “Gabriel. _Mein Gott._ ” She fixated on him, wide eyes set in a sheer state of horror. “What… what happened to you?”

Gabriel scoffed, unbuttoning the track jacket to show her his autopsy scar. “You tell me, doc.”

“I… no…” she shook her head. “This isn’t what I’d intended. It was supposed to save you…”

“Is this what you’d call saving?” He stepped forward until he towered over her, glaring down at her with all of his eyes.

“Gabriel… I’m sorry, I…” Angela started to cry, and Gabriel let her. He felt no sympathy, perhaps unfair, given how many times she’d helped him, but the strings of apologies muttered between sobs fell on deaf ears. They weren’t going to change anything, and he remained there, waiting for her to realize it.

He found his patience was thin. “Fix it.”

“What?” she managed.

“Fix me.” Gabriel growled, tips of his claw pressing into his chest.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Try.” He said, walking past her into the kitchen. “You owe me that much.”

Angela’s voice was soft, “What if I can’t?”

Gabriel stopped a few steps through the doorway, glancing back. “That’s not an option.” He continued on, heading over to one of the cabinets, smiling just a little when he opened it. Ana had stocked the place full of her favorite Egyptian teas, which it seemed Angela had maintained. With a claw he poked through the boxes until he found one with Arabic script and a hibiscus on the front. The old, dented kettle on the stove was still warm, and he refilled the water, hearing Ana’s voice in his head telling him about the correct way to make tea. _You can use that machine all you like Gabriel, but this way is better. It preserves the flavor. Try it like this. You’ll like it._

“We’ll do it your way Ana,” he muttered, wishing she were still around. Maybe if she had been, things would have been different. She was always a voice of reason for him when he and Jack fought.

He waited for the water to come to boil then hung two tea bags inside of a pair of mugs, filling them and watching the spread of deep magenta. Gabriel stirred the tea and removed the bags after they’d filtered out. _Karkadé_ it was called. Good for you, Ana had said. He was about to walk off with them when Ana’s voice reminded him to add sugar so it wouldn’t be so tart. _Of course._

Gabriel returned to the living room. Angela was still sitting on the floor, though she was no longer crying. Good. She wasn’t useful like that. With a grunt he shoved a mug near her face.

She didn’t react at first.

“Angela.”

Trembling fingers closed around the mug, and she pulled it to her chest, allowing the steam to warm beneath her chin. She almost whispered, “What happened to you Gabriel?”

He went about scooping up the shards of her first mug, setting them out of the way. “Can you stand?”

She nodded.

Gabriel turned the light on, headed over to a furniture island in front of the stonework fireplace, and sank into the cushions of the arced couch, which was worn in from hours of vegging out in front of the television. Angela joined him a moment later, taking her time to get to her feet. She briefly lingered near the other end of the couch, but decided instead to sit on the chair he’d been in before, pulling her legs in close to her body.

“You made _Karkadé_.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his. Only warmth prickled his screaming nerves, and just barely. Figures he couldn’t taste it.

“Thank you,” she said. “You remembered the sugar.”

Gabriel nodded again. “Are you composed enough to hear the shit I’m about to tell you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, just remember, you asked.” Gabriel regaled every single gory detail of his transformation: the murders, the exhaustive pain, and the obsessive need to feed. He didn’t tell her about the souls, or the memories that haunted the space inside his skull, and he also made sure to leave out the part where he’d watched the aftermath of the explosion as a disembodied presence, wanting to give her all of the “real world facts” to mull around in that methodical brain of hers. She was attentive for the whole thing, and what others would consider rude staring Gabriel knew was her examining every bit of him she could from from a safe distance.

When he was done she sipped at her tea. He watched her finish it, setting the mug on the floor. “You came here for answers,” she began. “I know what I did on that day, but I don’t know what happened to cause…” she motioned to him, “this.”

Gabriel leaned forward. “Tell me what you did to me then.”

“You need to understand Gabriel I only had the best intentions for you.”

He scoffed. _The road to Hell is paved with them. I know._ Gabriel folded his arms and put his sneakers up on the coffee table, but signaled for her to continue, raising his chin.

“Jack called me on the day of the explosion. I didn’t know what to expect when I arrived, but, there you were, lying dead on a broken couch with a gaping hole in your chest and Jack… oh Gabriel,” she shook her head, hands tightening into fists, unable to speak for a time and he knew she didn’t have the heart to tell him the details of what she’d seen. She was trying to spare him of more pain. Poor, foolish, good-hearted Angela. “Jack was devastated. I couldn’t bear to see him like that or you the way you were, and decided to do something.” She shot him a pleading glance, desperately wanting him to understand her motives, and he did, he really did, but he had no intention of forgiving her that easily. “I had been testing a nanite system that could not only repair injury to a body but revive someone from death so long as there was still tissue to work with, and you were, for lack of kinder term, fresh, so I tried it on you. I,” she kneaded her thumbs against the sides of her hands, “don’t know if you remember at all, but it did work for a very short time…”

His mouth settled into a hard line. Oh, he remembered vividly. Dying twice in the same day wasn’t something he was going to just forget.

“As for why it inevitably failed, I’m still uncertain. Your autopsy was… inconclusive. I’d like to take a few samples if you don’t mind. I’ll get right to analyzing them, and hopefully I can come up with a way to reverse it, and if not, help you in some other way... I don’t know what I can to do to ease your pain, Gabriel. I don’t have any morphine here, and if I did it wouldn’t even be close to the dosage you’d require, if it worked at all and–”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t. “Do what you need to do,” he replied simply.

Angela quietly got up from her chair and disappeared from the room. She returned a few moments later with a sample kit, cautiously sitting beside him. Gabriel removed his coat and her eyes softened. She looked like she was going to cry again.

“Stop,” he said, forcing a raspy sigh. “I don’t need it right now. Neither do you. Guilt’s not going to get you anywhere, so, try and focus.”

She nodded quickly, but the tears fell anyway. Gabriel frowned. He got it. After having lost her parents Angela had always tried to help people, didn’t matter who, whenever she could to keep them from that same pain, often hurting herself in the process. Dealing with the loss of a close friend only to have him return from the dead was a horror beyond compare. Gabriel reached out and caught a tear with the side of his index claw, placing his other hand on top of hers, which were in her lap, to stop the shaking.

“Angie. Hey kid. Yeah, you fucked up, but you’re getting what a lot of people never get: a second chance,” Gabriel said, genuine. “You’re smart, and I need you right now. Please.”

“You’re warm,” she muttered. "Hot, actually."

“Excuse me?” He took his hands away.

“Your body; it generates heat. I wasn’t entirely expecting it since you...”

“Oh,” Gabriel chuckled.

Angela smiled just a bit. She opened up her kit and took Gabriel’s forearm in her palm. “It goes without saying, this will hurt.”

“Nothing new. Get on with it.”

Angela drove a needle beneath his skin, filling the syringe with the teeming black tar that occupied his blood vessels. She then tried to cut away a tissue sample with a scalpel, but his body seemed to want none of it and fizzled to smoke wherever the blade tried to touch.

_Stop it. Let her do it._

She tried again with the same result.

_You little sons of bitches, stop!_

The scalpel sliced his flesh. The pain didn’t even register above what he’d already been feeling, and Angela was able to gather whatever samples she wanted from Gabriel without protest, who, admittedly, was a notoriously a terrible patient. He smirked at the memory of him escaping hospital beds when he clearly shouldn’t have been trying, hearing Jack and Angela’s calls echo down a white hallway as he hobbled away a bandaged mess, ass hanging out of his hospital gown. Jack had chased him afterwards… Jack… The smirk sunk downwards.

“Hey Angela…”

“Hm?” Angela was busy packing away the samples.

“Where is Jack?”

“I…” she drew a deep breath. “I don’t know Gabe. He left after I tended to him, left me with you. He wouldn’t respond to our secure line. I’ve tried calling him so many times, but all I get is silence.”

“So, he’s a ghost now.” _We both are._

Angela must have noticed the sadness spread across Gabriel’s features – the way all of the lids of his eyes became heavy at the same time, the way his sharp teeth clenched as his frown deepened, and the way his smoke production increased, creating a haze in the air where they sat – because she suddenly embraced him. And it was that touch, that gesture of comfort that tore Gabriel down. He’d tried to hide how he felt, to push it all away or channel it into anger, but he’d failed at that too.

“I can’t do this Angie. I can’t be this _thing_.” He choked out, trying to hold back his own tears. He’d cried too much already. When was it going to stop? “I need him, so badly. Why did he run away?”

“He didn’t run he…” her voice trailed.

Gabriel shook his head, burying his face in Angela’s shoulder, not giving a shit that the teeth through the hole in his face had gotten caught on the fabric. “Was he even at my funeral?”

“I…” Angela’s palm rested on the back of Gabriel’s head, gently stroking his curls. “I didn’t see him, but he said he’d be there, and I believe he was. You both had separate services. Everyone attended, even Jesse, and if he was there after what happened between you two, then so was Jack.”

They stayed like that for a while. He’d missed the warmth of another person, and he found it comforting, even if it wasn’t Jack. “I’m sorry.”

He felt her head shift downward. “For?”

“For frightening you before and for leaving you on the fucking floor to cry while I went and made tea. I should have…” _Been a decent… whatever I am? Been stronger than I am? Admitted that any ounce of physical contact does nothing but remind me of Jack and as much as I try I can’t scrape the coward from my being?_

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Gabriel lifted his head, using a claw to free his teeth, and they made eye contact. Angela’s expression was soft, full of compassion. “Especially after all that’s happened.”  He could only nod. She let him go, collecting her sample kit and standing. “I should go work on these. You know where everything is.”

Gabriel raised a hand in both a thank you and a goodbye as Angela headed toward the basement. He leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes, taking note that the pain was worse when he didn’t have something else to focus on, so he spent the next few hours trying to occupy his god damned mind.

The television didn’t help. He’d unfortunately first stumbled on the news, and had to hold back throwing the remote through the device at what he saw. Some of the outlets were trying to pin the explosion _on him_. From what he’d been able to listen to, not one had any actual evidence, but seemed perfectly fine dragging his name and reputation through mud on speculation alone. He shouldn’t have been surprised; as a Black Latino man he made the perfect scape goat. It didn’t help that he was publicly dead. What was he going to do about it? Gabriel growled and managed to find some random basketball game, but couldn’t focus on that either.

Instead he ended up practicing his powers, disassembling the coffee mug in his palm and recalling its pieces from somewhere inside of his body. After he'd done that he went about repairing the one Angel had dropped. It was a simple thing to reform, as were the objects he’d tried while stowed away on the plane, and he scanned the room for something more complicated to try. He found the pistol.

Gabriel examined it. Wasn’t anything special, just a SIG Saur P220 handgun, which likely had belonged to Angela’s parents. He knew fairly well how the gun was supposed to go together, but found himself manually taking it apart and reassembling it a few times just to be sure. The magazine had a full clip, and he left it in for the extra challenge. The first couple of tries were wrong; the firing pin ended up on the outside of the gun on one, a bullet had melded with the slide on another, and then he lost the entire magazine. It took a while to finally get it right, and when he did he accidentally fired a shot into the wall.

 _Shit. Forgot the safety._ He hoped Angela didn’t hear that, but when she didn’t come back upstairs he figured she was too wrapped up in her work to notice. Wouldn’t have been the first time. Gabriel absorbed the gun again and got up. He wandered around the lodge, somehow ending up in an empty bedroom upstairs.

_This wasn’t where I’d wanted to go… was it?_

Gabriel lingered in the doorway, echoes of a memory calling into the halls of his mind, and then he could see the past unfurl on the sheets of the bed before him.

“ _What on Earth have we been doing Gabriel?” Jack’s voice said._

_"You need me to start listing? Did I literally fuck your brains out Morrison?”_

_Jack laughed. “No, it’s not that… Gabe, we should just stay here…”_

_Gabriel snorted. “You’re only saying that because the UN and the media have been crawling so far up your ass you can barely sit still. You’re unbelievable.” Gabriel huffed, going to exit the bed. “First time in ages we spend together and it starts with us fighting. Even now you’re only thinking about yourself. May as well end with one you selfish prick.”_

_“Gabe, that’s not what I meant.” Jack’s arms flew around him, keeping him on the bed. “I just want to stay with you. Nothing else matters.”_

_A pause. Wind whistled outside the window, across the snow._

_"Is that really true though?”_

_Jack fell silent, pressing his nose between Gabriel’s shoulder blades. He took a deep breath. “Yes.”_

_“Jack… this is all so fucked. We’re fucked. We have been for so long how can you expect one night to fix it?”_

_“I don’t, but at least I’m willing to try.”_

_Gabriel sighed. He placed a hand over Jack’s, over the ones that kept him grounded, and lay back down._

When the memory left him, Gabriel found himself on the bed in the same position, nuzzled up to nothing as if Jack were still behind him.

 

* * *

“Gabriel? How long have you been here?”

He snapped up. Angela was sitting on the end of the bed. She looked apprehensive. “What did you find?”

She wasn’t looking at him, instead fixated on the floor, hands in her lap kneading her fingers again.

Gabriel shifted closer and repeated, slower in case he’d misspoke the first time, “What did you find?”

“I made a mistake,” she said. Her voice was quiet and even tone; it was her doctor voice. Gabriel tensed. “I didn’t have enough information. I knew that going in, and I still tested the system on you.” So he was an experiment. “The nanomachines interacted poorly with your body; a clear result of whatever they did to you during the Soldier Enhancement Program. I never had access to those files, but I knew they’d modified you on a genetic level. My machines were created to work on standard human systems, and I adjusted them to suit based on past experience with you and Jack. When they tried to revive you, well, they only managed to do so for a moment before your cells started breaking down. That process was delayed, based on what you told me, and as your body was destroyed from the initial exposure the machines remembered how to rebuild you, following their protocol.”

“Which is?”

“Preserve life. You are a sentient mass of nanomachines Gabriel.” He stopped hearing her clearly after that, feeling sick, which was worse for him than actually being sick since he couldn’t do anything to relieve it. “… they managed to save your brain.” He was a machine. He’d spent his best years fighting, no, annihilating machines, and now he’d become one. “They remade you from the,” Angela paused, “materials you’ve collected.” _I’m a machine. I’m actually a fucking machine._ He laughed nervously, squeezing his eyes shut. “They integrated into every bit of you… only remade the systems they needed…” _I’m a machine with a soul. Fuck._ Gabriel tried to look at her, but she refused to do the same. “If you can feed, you can sustain, and you must sustain because your cells are stuck in an endless cycle dying and being replaced, and the machines are replicating all the time, working to maintain equilibrium. They are the smoke you see. They are what runs through your veins.”

There was no strength in his tone. “You’ve found a way to reverse all of this, haven’t you?”

She gulped, grasping at the fabric her pajama pants. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried for three days to find a solution, but no matter what I… I can’t do _anything_. The machines won’t respond to my commands. The layers of fail safes and overrides I added to their programming have done nothing. They’re stuck obeying their directive.” Angela’s voice cracked. “I can’t fix you Gabriel.”

For an instant Gabriel’s physical pain paled in comparison to the knot that wrenched what passed for his insides. “What did you say? I’m sorry, I must have heard you incorrectly, but it sounded like you said you can’t fix me.”

“Yes, that’s what I said. I can’t.” Angela rose from the bed, backing towards the door. “I can’t fix you. Even if I could get the machines to stop you’d just die again!”

That time Gabriel’s laugh was laced with malice. “Do you think I want to be like this?” He put his claws to his chest, approaching her. “Do you think it’s fun being in constant pain, wondering when you’re going to become hungry enough to be forced to kill another innocent person?” He backed her into the wall, placing his arm on the doorframe to keep her from skirting out of the room. “I murdered eight people Angela, tore them apart like I was a fucking animal, and absorbed them so your machines could make me into… this.” _Those people… they’re in my head. They’re all still in my head._ “I can’t do that again.” The panic was setting in. “ _Please_.”

“Gabriel I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” was all she could say.

He roared and punched the wall near her head, causing her to jump as he put a hole through it. Smoke billowed off his shoulders like a furious flame. Gabriel removed the arm blocking her and paced, grabbing his hair. _This isn’t happening._

“There has to be something you can do? Don’t do this to me Angela. I didn’t come all the way here to be told no!” Something in his face must have shifted; a new eye maybe, or he grew some more teeth, but he saw Angela’s hands fly over her mouth, and stopped wondering when he realized he simply didn’t care. “I don’t want to be this. I _can’t_ be this.” His body shook as he made fists, claws digging into his palms.

He’d been at the mercy of circumstances he couldn’t control. Everything had been thrust on him. No choices of his own. Angela had created him. The machines had forced him to prey on people and forced him to hurt. As for Jack, well… Jack had walked away. Gabriel had never felt so helpless, and he just couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to be forced to exist like he was anymore. He wasn’t Gabriel Reyes. He could never be Gabriel Reyes again. _Not like this._

Control was what he needed.

Angela should have let him die the first time. It would have been better for him, and for everyone else. _She can’t fix me._ It still hadn’t quite sunken in, but as the realization became more concrete, he felt like he was drowning. _I came here for nothing._

His options were limited; none were good, and he settled on the only one that would be final, that would solve everything. Gabriel wasn’t going to hurt anyone else so he could survive. He wasn’t going to exist as a mess of agony, perpetually dying flesh, and smoke for the rest of his days. Not happening.

_It will be better this way… Everything hurts, and I just want to sleep._

Gabriel lowered his shoulders and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. His hands were at his sides. “Angela, I need you to do me a favor.” Particles swirled around his fingertips. The P220 materialized in full working order, safety off.

“No. Gabriel, don’t. I can keep looking.” She stepped forward, reaching out to him.

He smiled, shaking his head as he pressed the barrel into his temple. “Don’t.”

_I’m sorry._

“Gabriel!”

_I’m sorry you have to watch this again. Look away._

Tears formed as he pictured Jack’s smiling face, memories of their best times playing in his head like an old movie reel. He loaded a bullet into the chamber. “Angela.” A tear fell through his smile. “Jack can’t know.”

He didn’t hear Angela’s pleas.  

Before he pulled the trigger, he swore he saw a butterfly flutter across his field of vision. It was made of white light, shedding gold from its wings, as ephemeral as he was.

 

**END CHAPTER 3**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, like I said, it got worse. This is going to be one of those long fics. We're far from done. :) I severely dislike how some aspects of the OW fandom treat Mercy like she's a mad scientist, so I felt like correcting it here.
> 
> Next chapter is a flashback looking into part of their relationship when things weren't so great. It's already drafted, so the wait shouldn't be nearly as long.
> 
> Thanks for reading. I appreciate all of the feedback. Also thank you to Mel for beta reading and to visor76 for letting me bounce ideas off him.


	4. What I Do For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback. When devotion defies control.

The assassin didn’t even get close to pulling the trigger. He’d barely even gotten to test his sight before he had Gabriel’s shotgun pressed to the back of his skull. Their intel had been solid, having come from another Talon shithead whose best friend had recently become a feeding tube. They’d brought the would-be assassin to a Blackwatch safehouse where he’d be bound to never see the light of day. Jack’s speech in Rome would go off without a hitch, as usual, and the best part was he wouldn’t have to worry his pretty little head off knowing how closely, again, he’d come to getting shot between the eyes.

The first, and the only time as far as Jack was concerned, thanks to Gabriel not telling him, was a few years back in São Paulo, Brazil. It had been one of the numerous peace-time missions from the UN. They were all the same: Jack and some other members of the organization would be paraded in front of swaths of people and give a speech about how Overwatch was there to protect them, keep the peace, and all of that shit, while Gabriel and a Blackwatch unit would covertly run security. The events almost always took place out in the open; in a city square, in front of a government building, or at a monument, surrounded by numerous, tall buildings that often created a the very definition of logistical fucking nightmare. That particular mission, he recalled, had been set for the São Paulo City Hall.

Gabriel had always been careful. Those who didn’t know him well would call him paranoid. The few who did knew it was just his meticulous nature getting the better of him. As was routine, he’d sent teams and drones scouring buildings, even ones beyond the ranges of every sniper rifle he knew, looking for nests. They’d come up empty. He’d kept the drones out, called the teams back in to manage the perimeter, and watched Jack smile at a cheering crowd from the shadows.

Halfway through Jack’s speech, someone in the crowd had pulled a gun. None of the drones had caught it, and Gabriel would later find out the weapon had possessed a built-in jammer, but there were at least three agents on the man before he knew what was going on. Unfortunately, he’d gotten a shot off first, aimed at Jack. Gabriel had reacted on instinct, Jack much closer to his position than the assassin, and got in the way of the bullet, taking it to the chest. He’d almost died. The round had been armor piercing.

Jack wasn’t quite the same. He’d stayed stoic at Gabriel’s bedside as he recovered, but after, fear set in. Gabriel watched as Jack became afraid of being out in public, not wanting to be a target, and not wanting to watch Gabriel get hurt again for his sake. He’d hole himself up in his office and not talk to people for days on end, silently signing orders and ignoring communications from the UN. He’d sometimes come to Gabriel’s quarters at night when he was around, deathly silent, and just stare at him, blue eyes sullen, until he was let in. If Gabriel wasn’t there, Jack would sit outside his door for the rest of the night, sometimes clutching a gun, or so he’d been told. It had taken copious amounts of effort on him and Ana’s part to get Jack back in the public eye.

Gabriel had vowed to never let Jack feel that kind of fear again.

No, Jack would never know about the additional attempts on his life, all fifteen of them. He would continue to smile to the oblivious crowds and the media, glowing like the fucking sun, unburdened. Gabriel would instead carry those burdens for him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

A lazy haze of smoke trailed from the end of his cigarette as Gabriel stared at his prisoner through a one-way mirror. Probably having crawled out of some dark pit, the man looked like a rat; slicked back black hair, a crooked nose that hooked downward, and a long face to match long limbs. He was dressed in a black blazer with matching slacks and at least three hundred dollar leather loafers, as if he were planning to attend a party instead of taking a life. Maybe it had been both. He didn’t have much strength to his form, but, Gabriel supposed, that wasn’t what made him a threat.

“You want me in there, _jefe_?” Jesse McCree asked, giving him a sideways glance as he lifted the brim of his hat.

“No. I’ve got it kid.”

Jesse nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Gettin’ kinda routine at this point, isn’t it?”

Gabriel gave him a slight nod.

“Gabe.”

His attention shifted completely to Jesse. He only bothered to call him that when it was something serious. “Yes?”

 **“** _Estás bien_?”

He wasn’t. Jesse didn’t have to ask, but he appreciated it nonetheless. There was nothing right with any of it. People kept coming after Jack, as if he were the prize for winning some sick game. It left Gabriel in a constant state of distress whenever Jack was in public, and it was worse, of course, when Gabriel couldn’t be there himself due to a mission. Was he going to return to find Jack had been killed, that the agents he’d left behind had failed and there was nothing he could do to change it?  He bit down on the end of his cigarette. The thoughts were one of the many, many things he’d internalized over the years.

“ _Jefe?_ ”

Gabriel reached out and squeezed Jesse’s shoulder. It was enough to let Jesse know he’d be fine. “Make sure we have a med team ready this time. Observe. I’ll try to make this quick.”

“Sir,” another Blackwatch agent said as he entered the space, saluting, “Here’s the intel you requested.”

“Thanks Voronov,” Gabriel nodded. He took the tablet, scanning it over. “How’d our boy’s speech go?” He’d left before it was over, as more important things had required his attention. He wasn’t about to tell Jack – his head was apt to explode if he got any more hot air –, but he did try to watch his speeches, admiring from afar how good he was with people he didn’t know personally. It was nice to see Jack in his element, even if that was the only way Gabriel got to see him.

“He did good, sir. Got some tears out of the crowd.”

Gabriel grunted. The UN had picked their poster boy well. “So nothing new. You’re excused.”

“Sir.” The agent saluted again and left.

He sighed, attention on the dossier in his hand. Gabriel scrolled through with a swipe of his thumb. The assassin, known as “ _Il Vento”_ , birth name Marco Rizzo, had a kill count of twenty-one spanning across Europe. He’d been caught three times and escaped before anyone ever got him into a police station. By the look of it, he had a soft spot for old guns; his weapon of choice being a Beretta TRG M10, though heavily modified, and had claimed at least nine of his kills with just a garrote. _Stronger than he looks._

 Gabriel set the tablet down on a table beneath the mirror and quashed his cigarette, rolling his head from side to side to elicit a crack from his neck. Without another word to Jesse he entered the interrogation room, locking the door behind him, the motion deliberate and visible. Gabriel found his prisoners were more forthcoming when they realized they were stuck in a room, with no hope of escape, alone, with _him_. The door could be unlocked from a panel on the outside, of course, but it was the illusion of hopeless confinement that was important.

“ _Saluti,_ Commander Reyes,” Il Vento said with a nod. His hands were cuffed to a bolted chair in the middle of the room and he spoke through a sneer sharp enough to cut diamonds. “You are as impressive as your reputation claims. Quite the rarity. A moment later and you would have witnessed the beauty of Jack Morrison’s head painted at the feet of the Holy See.”

Gabriel’s expression was stone. Most assassins they’d caught were stoic, silent, and easy for Gabriel in particular to read and pick apart. This guy was mouthy. He internally grimaced. The mouthy ones were trouble.

He grabbed another chair from against the wall and swung it around in front of Il Vento, sitting on it backwards. Gabriel draped his arms across the top. “Talon must be slipping if they sent a _cabrón_ in a dollar store suit like you to do the job.”

The assassin laughed. “You have no taste Commander, but I guess you _are_ a soldier. Ah, as for mine, well, I’m not about to kill someone in _Piazza San _Pietro__ without at least looking nice for God.” His eyes briefly rose to meet the ceiling and muttered a prayer in Latin.

Gabriel tried not to let his disdain show on his face. He _hated_ the mouthy ones, especially when they were arrogant. “God’s not going to help you,” he said, shooting a glare that stopped most men cold, adding an edge to his already dangerous presence. It had no effect on Il Vento. The man remained as he had been, calm and all smiles, not a minute shift in the lids of his eyes or the the wrinkles in his forehead. He was not afraid of Gabriel.

“I suppose this is the part where you tell me you’re my God now and if I want to get out of here alive I should cooperate and spill all of Talon’s dirty little secrets?” That smirk seemed to be a permanent fixture on Il Vento’s face. He laughed again. “Mmm, I bet you want to know the purpose of all of this, the end game?”

“No,” Gabriel said. That part was obvious. Talon had tried to kill Jack specifically in the public eye, and in doing so made their message clear: even in peacetime no one is safe. Jack was all over the television, the holocasters, and plastered on posters probably hanging on the wall of some bright-eyed kid’s bedroom. He was, if anything, hope for the future, and shattering that would destroy millions. As for Talon’s motives, Gabriel imagined, like with every other piece of shit Blackwatch had to deal with, they weren’t much different; money, power, and everything that came with them. People like them were predictable. “I just want to know what’s next.”

“You’re a practical man Commander.” The hits, while in public places, were still rare considering how many appearances Jack made, and it would give Gabriel peace of mind that he didn’t have to figure out the next one, even if he had yet to be wrong. The possibility still existed, and it haunted him. “And a foolish one.” Il Vento’s sneer somehow widened. “That would spoil the fun.”

Gabriel’s scowl deepened.

“You’re thinking,” Il Vento leaned forward, dark eyes meeting Gabriel’s. “‘There’s no fun in this’, and yet you’re still playing the game so you must enjoy it to some extent.” His tongue ran over the edge of his top teeth. “What does it feel like playing hero for a man who stole your glory?”

“It’s my duty.” _I do it gladly._ “Which is something you’d know nothing of.”

“Oh, I know more than you’d care to admit. Like you Commander, Talon is well aware of its purpose; yours just happens to be in Morrison’s shadow,” he cooed. 

Oh, Gabriel wanted to deck him, knock that smile down his throat, but instead he managed to keep his composure. This guy craved attention, spectacle. Another approach was required.

“You’re wasting my time,” Gabriel said, getting up quickly.

“Am I now?”

“I’ll be back whenever you want to tell me where the next hit’s going to be. In the meantime, enjoy talking to the walls,” he rapped his knuckles against them when he reached the door, “but I doubt they’ll listen. Whole room’s proofed.” He chuckled, wagging a finger at Il Vento, matching his smirk. His tone lowered, sounding almost playful, “You know, I’ve always wondered how long a normal man can _really_ go without water.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Gabriel shrugged “Though, my guess is the silence will kill you long before the thirst will. _Adios._ ” Gabriel gave a half-hearted wave.

“Commander Reyes,” the calm slipped from his tone just enough for Gabriel to notice. He’d hit the right button. “How is Jack Morrison?”

_Or not._

“Wrong subject,” he said flatly, unlocking the door.

Il Vento chuckled. “ _Cómo esta tu sol_?”

Gabriel’s posture went rigid and his shoulders tensed. He grit his teeth.

“Or does his light no longer warm your bed?”

His hands became fists, and he remained at the door.

“Tell me Commander, do you remember what it once felt like to sleep beside him, warm and secure without worry or care, only now to wake up to a void and realize you’re alone, truly and deeply alone? Do you hear the echo of his laughter as you walk down silent halls, all scattering before your presence as your face hides what you dare not show? Do you watch him from afar, hoping, deep down, that he’ll drop what he’s doing and talk to you again, even if just for a fleeting moment? Does he know how you feel, Gabriel?”

Gabriel was silent.

“Does he even care?” Il Vento shifted in his seat, leaning as far forward as he could go, allowing the cuffs to dig into his wrists. “I have my doubts, leaving you with Blackwatch like he did while he basks in the rays of public adoration, and you, forced to stay out of the way, down in the dirt with people like me.” His chuckle rattled against Gabriel’s bones. “So sad how he turned out; like a normal man. You thought he was different, didn’t you?” His tone lifted, laced with poisonous malice, “You thought your precious sun was better than the others, was kinder, was more selfless…was yours. But,” Il Vento spat, “just like any other man he succumbed! All he had to do was be enticed by a shiny new title and his true colors shown through, didn’t they! He ignores you now, perhaps even ashamed to be associated with you and what you do, even if he knows little, because all he cares about, all he ever cared about was power Commander Reyes, and now that he has more than he could ever ask for there’s no time, no thought, for _you_.” Il Vento cackled, sounding more animal than human. “How does it feel to know Jack Morrison is nothing like the man you loved? He’s just another heartless bureaucrat needing to be snuffed out, and you waste so much saving his wretched life. He’s hardly worth your time, let alone mine. He’s a–”

There was no thought between Point A and Point B. One moment Gabriel was at the door and the next he was slamming his fists into Il Vento’s smug face. He didn’t hear the laughter transform into screaming. He didn’t feel warmth of blood spray from his knuckles to land upon his cheeks. Gabriel even failed to hear the door open as shouts of his name spilled into the room. He barely registered the attempts to pry him from the assassin, instinctively fighting against the onslaught of hands and arms. It took three people to get Gabriel to back off, and even against them he got a few more hits in.

“Gabriel!” He heard the echo of Jesse’s voice, but it didn’t immediately register over the drum beat of his heart.

His attention was entirely on the form slumped in the chair before him, head swollen, oozing, a mess of reds and purples gleaming beneath white light. Someone blocked his field of vision.

“He’s dead.” A voice said.

Jesse spoke to him. Gabriel didn’t catch it, instead staring at his hands. They were painted crimson, the color mottling the dark grey of his sleeves.

“God damn it say somethin’! Answer me!”

“Let go.” Gabriel grumbled. He felt bodies shift around him, and he stood. There was no emotion in his tone. “Get rid of him.”

The agents in the room nodded, even Jesse, knowing better than to protest an order. They all knew protocol and were still operating within Blackwatch’s UN outlined and approved parameters, of which there were very, very few. Il Vento wasn’t the first person to die during interrogations; probably wouldn’t be the last, but he was the only one Gabriel had failed to get any information from, well, anything mission related.

“ _Estás bien_?” Jesse said.

“I’m fine, _mijo_.” Gabriel didn’t look at him, or anyone else, and left the interrogation room. Blood drops followed him out.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel had spent an hour in the safehouse bathroom washing the blood from his hands. The actual removal had taken around ten minutes while the rest of the time was spent scrubbing his skin raw as he buried himself in thought. Gabriel hadn’t made a habit of killing prisoners, rather, he’d shown his men it was oftentimes more effective to use methods that didn’t involve severe bodily harm to extract information. The only prisoner deaths they’d had, and there were three he could recall, had either been the fault of injuries sustained during apprehension, or on the inexperience of another Blackwatch agent whom he wasn’t able to supervise.

He’d never… he’d never killed anyone like that outside of a combat situation. It took a while for the shock to wear off, but Gabriel came to realize that the same techniques he’d used to break so many others had been used to do the same to him. Il Vento had compromised him and he had used Gabriel’s love for Jack to do it.

The walk back to his hotel was long, wind nipping at his heels. He’d stripped down to civilian clothes, pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Gabriel felt the consequences of his actions as they weighed on others, but for him, there was only apathy. He didn’t remember much, just a haze of red and the insatiable need to stop the assassin’s laughter, and he couldn’t help but be severely bothered. He wasn’t heartless, yet the life he’d taken somehow meant little.

_No Jesse, I’m not alright. Far from it actually._

The hotel he’d put himself in was very small, off the main streets, and run by an elderly couple who offered more smiles than questions. His team had either also gotten rooms there, or at two other similar establishments, having all checked in at different times of the day. None of his team was recognizable to the general public, not even Gabriel, who at that point only held an air of familiarity to war dogs who still talked about the Omnic Crisis, or when he was spoken of alongside Jack Morrison. The world was too carefree to bother with him, having continued to drink its fill on peace time, at least on the surface, and sometimes he wondered if he’d even made it into the history books. He never bothered to check.

Gabriel’s room was quaint; a single space painted in warm orange hues with a bed, a dresser, a television mounted on the wall, a wooden chair by a sliding door to the balcony, and a bathroom. He didn’t need much, and honestly preferred cramped quarters. It reminded him of what he and Jack had shared back in the Enhancement Program; their little room with the bunk beds when it was just the two of them shutting out the rest of the world. He’d like to do that for a while, maybe forever.

He sat on the end of his bed, rubbing his beard and then pressing the heels of his hands into his face. _Look at you. Estupido. You go to Rome and you kill a man with your bare hands for what? Anger? Silence? Jack? What the fuck is wrong with you?_

Gabriel groaned, falling back onto the bed to stare up at the ceiling.

There was a knock.

He didn’t react immediately. It was probably Jesse. _Dios._ How was he going to explain what he’d done to _him_? Jesse had seen it all, maybe the only one who did, likely staring in horror as Gabriel had snapped on the other side of the one-way mirror.

Another knock.

“Hold on.” He wasn’t ready to deal with what was coming. Gabriel had raised Jesse from the ashes of his time in Deadlock to be a good man, and he was, certainly much better than he. A good man wouldn’t do what Gabriel did, especially not in front of his Second in Command, not in front of his _mijo._

Gabriel got up at the third knock. “I said hold on damn it. Honestly Jesse, I thought I taught you to have a little more patience than –” He opened the door. It wasn’t Jesse.

“Hi, Gabe.” His heart fluttered. It was fucking Jack, dressed down in a pair of jeans, a navy blue t-shirt that was far too tight, a track jacket old enough to have come from his high school days, and a stupid Captain America baseball cap with the brim pulled down over his brow. His security detail wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Gabriel scowled, eyes narrowing. “Are you going to let me in or were you thinking about slamming the door in my face?”

Gabriel tapped his fingers against the door. “I’m still deciding. Thinking about the latter. Why are you here Jack?”

“Jesse spoke with me. He, uh,” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, “said you had a rough day and that I should see you.”

He scoffed. “Can’t come visit me on your own? Had to be coerced by my SIC… Pitiful. Fuck off Jack.” Gabriel went to slam the door but Jack caught it, pushing back to leave them in a stalemate. He was the only one who could. “Let. Go. Jack.”

“Gabe, please? I know I haven’t done the best job making time for you –”

Gabriel let out a guffaw.

“But when’s the last time you tried to make any for me?”

One of Gabriel’s trademark glares bored a hole into Jack’s skull because he was right. He’d stopped coming around Jack’s office ages ago. There was always someone else there demanding the Strike Commander’s attention, well, that and he he couldn’t stand to see Jack sitting in the chair that should have been his. Time hadn’t so much as dulled the sting of the promotion for Gabriel, but rather gave it the opportunity to fester, and Gabriel hated how badly it affected him. It made him selfish, spiteful, and those were things he shouldn’t be towards the person he he had, and still did, love so dearly. So, to prevent himself from lashing out more than he already did, he’d mostly settled on ignoring Jack, which was easier than he’d thought, excluding his emotional state on the matter. Blackwatch’s schedule often didn’t sync with Jack’s as Talon didn’t exactly operate during convenient business hours.

“Gabe,” he continued, blue eyes softening, almost pleading, and Gabriel could barely stand to look at them. “I’m here right now, even if it is late.” Jack didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. _Too late._ But, was it really? They’d never actually called it off. Their relationship was more in a sort of awkward limbo where sometimes the stars aligned and old passions flared, so maybe…

Gabriel’s expression was still sour, but he opened the door. “Come in before I change my mind.”

Jack nodded and offered a smile, and just seeing that directed at him was enough to for his warmth to crawl inside Gabriel’s chest along with a knot. He wanted to touch Jack, to caress his soft cheeks and say the words scrawled across his heart, but instead, as was common place, he did nothing, ensuring his face was barren of his emotions. Gabriel had gotten so good at wearing masks, at putting up walls, having so many now that not even the best demolitions expert in Overwatch could tear them down.

He watched Jack take a seat on the wooden chair, setting his hands in his lap. Gabriel returned to the end of the bed and folded his arms, “So, what did Jesse tell you?”

“Not much,” Jack said. “I didn’t pry about any of your Blackwatch dealings.” _Of course you wouldn’t._ But Gabriel didn’t want him to. He didn’t want Jack knowing all of the gritty, gory details of what he did. “I’ll just wait for the report,” Which would be scrubbed. Blackwatch’s mission reports went through a UN representative first before they ever reached Jack’s desk. They needed their boy to stay optimistic. “But Jesse was distraught, to say the least. He’s really worried about you.”

_I’m worried about me too._

“He said you snapped Gabe. He just didn’t tell me how, just that it was serious.”

Gabriel didn’t answer. How could he? _Hey Jackie, I beat some guy to death because he pissed me off and told me things I didn’t want to hear, oh, and he tried to kill you earlier. Actually, he’s the newest in the line of fourteen other people to have tried. How was your day?_ Instead he just sat there. Jack didn’t press and they lingered in uncomfortable silence.

Jack was the first one to break it. “Look, I get you’re angry with me –”

“Angry?” _I’m not really._ “ _Pendejo_ I’m furious.” _Not at you. At me. I’m just alone. I miss you._ “Ever since you got that promotion we barely do anything together, let alone speak.” _It’s not the promotion, it’s me. It was so long ago and I’m still hanging on to it. I just want something to blame._ “You’ve got your head so high up in the clouds you can’t even see your own feet, or the people beneath them.” _I want you to come home, please. Come back to me._

“Gabe.”

“Don’t ‘Gabe’ me. You took that job without a second thought, didn’t even try to refuse.” _But you did. I remember you did. I’m so sorry Jack._ “I fucking saw how you glowed after. Wanted to punch that smile right off your face.” _I wanted to say how proud I was of you, how truly proud, but couldn’t find the strength. “_ To just keep going until…” Gabriel stared at his hands. _No, no I didn’t._ The image of Il Vento’s face slipped into his thoughts, cackling wildly. The things he’d said… _I can’t face them. I can’t face you._ “You should leave Jack.” _Please don’t._

Jack frowned, gaze heavy and locked on Gabriel, years of regret weighing down his speech, “I don’t want to.”

That’s all it took for one of Gabriel’s walls to crumble. He wanted so badly to go to Jack, to hold him and tell him between warm kisses how sorry he was for all of the constant bullshit, but he was too damn stubborn and too damn proud. Instead, he laughed in an effort to dispel the desire to cry, and then summoned his anger, his old guardian. “You want to stay? Where was that desire _years_ ago? _Dios_ , I remember when I’d come back from a Blackwatch mission, injured to shit, stuck a hospital bed, and you’d be right there beside me when I woke up. Then, one day, you stopped coming, and I stopped expecting you to. I was told you were busy. Busy? Really Jack?” Gabriel dug his fingers into the bed. “Too busy to see me when I needed you?”

“I… I can explain Gabriel, if you’ll let me.”

“I don’t want to hear it _Commander Morrison_.” Gabriel said Jack’s name like a curse. “I don’t want to hear how you got busy, how your job became more important than us.” He shook his head. “Do you even know what I do for you Jack? Do you even have a fucking clue?” _Of course he doesn’t. And it’s my own fault._ “Every day I’m busting my ass cleaning up your messes, keeping Overwatch as pristine as it should be, as it would be under my command.” Gabriel turned away from Jack. He was doing everything in his power to hide how much pain he was in, but he knew Jack could tell, and that made it worse. His tone fell, “I’m out there while you’re sucking off officials, while you’re flirting with the media, making sure the world is right for you, making sure you don’t die.” He glanced at his hand, seeing it covered in blood which soaked into the bed sheets beneath him. “I killed a man today Jack; beat his face into nothing with my own scarred and calloused hands, and I did it because he’d wanted to hurt you.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it was the lie he’d tell himself so he could keep going. “I lost it today. I lost it for you.”

The look on Jack’s face all but destroyed him. It wasn’t the horror he’d expected, but instead deep sadness and Gabriel could tell Jack was blaming himself for all of it even though they were both at fault. He stood, walked over to Gabriel, and threw his arms around him, holding him tight. Gabriel could have broken then. He loved Jack so damn much, but that love had made him do something abhorrent, and it was something Gabriel couldn’t handle.

He shoved Jack away. It wasn’t with any sort of effort; more of a defeated, helpless push, but Jack released him and stumbled back anyway, taken by surprise.

“Get out.” Gabriel said, voice shaking.

Jack stared at him looking positively broken.

“Get. Out.” Gabriel yelled.

“I’m sorry.” Was all Jack said before he complied, leaving Gabriel alone.

As soon as the door closed Gabriel’s walls fell and he sunk to the floor where he belonged, sobbing uncontrollably into his palms. He was weak, he was so weak treating Jack that way, forcing him out, and Gabriel dug his nails into his forehead, hating the person he’d become. He just wanted Jack and he’d let him go.

It was then Gabriel resolved to never be that weak again.

  
**END CHAPTER 4**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry. Added Jesse to the character tags (he'll be in this thing more later), and hey, a chapter where Jack's in the story for more a couple paragraphs.
> 
> This chapter is a complete "what if" scenario, but like, I'm writing in the span of 20 some odd years (at least) after the Omnic Crisis, so I figured why not, this is as plausible as anything else that could have happened. This chapter takes place sometime near the tail end of their relationship before the Blackwatch files were leaked, before the explosion. Hooray for vague timelines. GG Blizz.
> 
> I plan to give Jack's side of things later down the road with some planned chapters and scenes in his POV, so stay tuned. I have a point I want to get to before Blizzcon, so expect probably 3-4 more chapters before that event.
> 
> Thanks for beta reading again Mel. <3


	5. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no going back.

 

Gabriel knew well what it was like to die. The bullet should have torn through his skull, severed the connection to his nightmare, but there he was: still existing. Serpentine coils of black were suspended in air, churning with the slow grace of ink in water. Sublimation; his protection, part of his head was a line of smoke where the bullet had cut.

“Let me go,” he begged. “ _Deja que te vaya pequeños bastardos._ ”  
  
Gabriel pulled the trigger again, and again, and again until he’d unloaded the entire clip through his head and into the ceiling, ephemeral trails of darkness dissipating after every bullet. He’d barely heard Angela’s shrieks and cries of “Stop, Gabriel please _stop_ ” over the gunfire.

He was made of machines and they refused to let him die. Choice, he realized, had never been anything but an illusion. Gabriel was stuck, and would forever be a monster.

_It’s her fault._ Gabriel lunged at Angela, head solidifying as he picked her up by the throat and pushed her against the wall. “I should kill you.” Composure had fled. His tone reflected an unsettling mix of fear, anger, and hate. He laughed but it sounded more like crying. “I should rip your soul out, pull it slowly so it fights against me, desperately clinging to your body, to its anchor as your bones break under the strain.” He smiled, but there was no happiness there. He averted his gaze for a moment, tears stinging his cheeks, running along his scars.

“Gabriel, please, let me try again.” Angela choked, fingers prying between his hand and her neck. “I’ll find some way I’ll –”

“You’ve done enough,” he roared, bearing pointed teeth, releasing her but remaining in her space. He sobbed through his speech. “You’ve done enough. I should… I want to, but to give you the release I so desperately crave is insulting. No, Angela, I won’t bring you death. I want to share in this torment with you…” _I don’t want to be alone._ His voice lowered. “I want you to see what you’ve forced me to do. Every day I hope you’ll be thinking about where I am, how many people I’ve killed, and how many more I’ll have to in order to keep up with the existence you’ve handed to me.” He drew in her breath as she exhaled. “This is as much your fault as it is mine.” He was the burden of her mistakes.

“Please, Gabriel. I need to try again. I will fix this,” she said with a gasp.

“Goodbye Angela.”

Gabriel spun around, picturing himself outside. His body responded, exploding in shadows and ghosting through the wall until he was gliding across the ground with only Angela and the moon above watching him depart.

 

* * *

 

Numb. Gabriel just wanted to be numb.

He’d been wandering the Swiss Alps for months, reckless, feeding, burying his memories under the weight of others in both an attempt to stop his pain and at the same time feel human again. There were so many new people in his head, so many images of happiness and death that he was unable to keep track of the number of souls he’d taken, but he knew it wasn’t enough, and likely never would be.

The high he reached from consuming was only a momentary reprieve; focusing his world to a single point of ecstasy as he reveled in the energy new lives granted, only to have to have his peace slip and torment return all too quickly, body threatening to tear itself apart cell by cell. He tried so hard to stop, but the temptation and brief reward was too great, and he slipped into an endless cycle of need, consumption, and self-loathing.

When he wasn’t eating, he’d managed to cordon off his mind into neat little sections and lock away anything unpleasant about his past life, including all of the happiness he’d once known. Weakness purged, Gabriel was left with his hatred, which pushed him back to where it all began, back to Zürich, where the feeling only grew.

Lies had been woven. The UN fabricated evidence. Gabriel Reyes had lost touch with reality they’d said. It was the stress of running Blackwatch coupled with the document leak they claimed. He’d taken an ‘any means necessary’ approach to missions, acting outside the law and ignoring human rights, and when confronted by Jack Morrison, he’d decided to end it. The explosion had been all Gabriel’s fault, the media professed, and the public had devoured it.

_A monster they made me. A monster I shall be._

Gabriel Reyes was truly dead; martyred by an explosion and crucified by public opinion. And, true to the narrative, Gabriel had become the scum they wished to wash their hands of, vilifying him at every turn, like he deserved it. And maybe, now, he did.

To add insult to injury the UN intended to construct a museum in honor of the recently disbanded Overwatch, in part chronicling the life and loss of Jack Morrison, its shining light. He wasn’t mentioned, but hadn’t expected it. He’d gone off the edge, too far to be redeemed.

_They have no idea._

He remained focused on what really mattered: destroying everyone who’d destroyed him. The explosion hadn’t been his fault, of course. It had been an assassination for knowing too much, for stepping out of line, for getting far too deep into matters meant to sail above his head. The UN had been corrupt. Like good little puppets, they obeyed the ones pulling the strings, and Gabriel had every intention of finding them too and tearing their souls asunder. They’d regret his resurrection, he’d make certain of it.

Gabriel stood, clad in black from head to toe, in front of a warehouse on the bank of the Limmat River, eyeing a moth as it flitted around a flickering light near a reinforced steel door. Other than its presence, the building had no signs of life. From the research he’d done during a visit to the director of the Overwatch Memorial Project’s office, he’d learned the building had hastily been outfitted with a new, supposedly top of the line, security system. So hastily, in fact, the biometric readers hadn’t been installed yet and they’d gone with keycards for the time being. Lucky him.

 It hadn’t been difficult for Gabriel to find one in the director’s desk drawer, and he stared at the door before him, yellow card resting between two fingers. There were cameras outside. They’d seen him, but it really didn’t matter. Gabriel had kept his face and hands a distorted mass of shadows, marring his identity, and he’d be done long before anyone showed up. He stepped forward and swiped the key card. A light above the reader flashed green and the door opened for him as if he were entering a bank vault.

He didn’t bother taking note of the warehouse’s contents until he’d flown around and disabled all of the interior cameras, double-checking to ensure he didn’t miss any. The security company, Avalon, held a monopoly on the market and he’d become intimately familiar with their layouts and systems through his years of covert ops missions; facts he’d kept around after stowing most of his emotions. Anything unrelated to his goals was forfeit.

The interior of the warehouse was like a graveyard; pieces of the organization he once loved lay bare against slate grey walls and floors. The project had raided some of Overwatch’s Watchpoints, leaving defunct ATVs, drones, pieces of VTOL planes, and helicopters scattered about. Multicolored shipping crates lined the west wall, and Gabriel found they either contained weapons, communications equipment, or furniture stripped from once occupied quarters. One housed old combat uniforms, Reinhardt’s Crusader armor standing tall at the back of the container amongst a sea of clothed mannequins. He searched, but didn’t find any of his belongings there.

As he exited the shipping container he noticed an out of place pile of cardboard boxes in the back corner of the warehouse near the door to the loading dock. He floated there, taking note of the blunt red lettering scrawled across the side of the boxes in what looked like marker: TO BE DESTROYED.

He took a deep breath out of habit, certainly not out of need, and opened one of the boxes. A saw-toothed grin spread across the dark void of his face, appraising the welcoming contents. Some of his old gear; his armored chest plate, ammo belts, greaves, and hoodie were inside. He dug them out, hoping to find his guns. Sure enough, two oversized shotguns sat at the bottom of the bin. Removing them carefully, Gabriel inspected them to ensure they weren’t damaged. The weapons weren’t his original pair, which had likely been crushed or melted in the explosion, but a back-up he’d kept in his quarters at Watchpoint Los Angeles. They seemed to be in working order.

Beneath the guns was a plastic grocery bag and he paused before removing it, uncertain he wanted to know what it contained. Curiosity, and the chance it would hold something useful, got the better of him. Inside were some of his personal effects: a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, his old phone with a pair of earbuds attached, and a stack of photos, some of which had been framed once but were nowhere to be found. Gabriel would have stuffed them all back in the bag, but he found himself frozen, staring at the top photo. It was one of him, Jack, and Ana.

_This will never be again._

He focused on himself. He no longer looked familiar. A clawed thumb drove through his own head. Gabriel crumpled the picture and turned, bottom half of his body becoming a wave of darkness, engulfing everything that had been inside the box, as well as the box itself.

_I’m not Gabriel anymore._

He strode back to the shipping container with the uniforms, stopping before a mannequin wearing one of Jack’s Strike Commander dusters.

_I am death. That’s all I can give._

He placed a palm flat against the breast of the coat and watched the entire thing disintegrate outwards from his fingers, a wash of particles drawing into his form. His smoke had grown exponentially, billowing from him, holding what he’d taken, ready for him to use it. While he was skilled at creating clothing by hand, he knew he didn’t have the time, and luckily, he didn’t have to wait. Ideas played, weaving together in his mind as he designed something fitting of his new persona and focused on merging all of the stolen particles together how he wanted.

When he was finished he was unidentifiable. He gazed at his work in the polished sheen of the Crusader armor. His coat, long and black, flowed behind, extending to a hood at the shoulders to keep him in shadow. Gauntlets spiked and fierce led to gloves tipped with metal talons that grasped a new pair of shotguns, forged in darkness and in Hellfire. Tactical belts looped around his waist, resting against an armored torso and armored thighs. He stepped forward, greaves heavy against the floor of the shipping container, and smiled.

_Almost perfect._

With concentration his face solidified to what it had been: a mess of eyes, rotten flesh, and jagged teeth. Disgusting. No one needed to see him like that, especially not himself. An overwhelming desire to hide took over and his eyes darted around until they settled on something familiar and white: Angela’s armor. One of the wing extensions was missing, and the rest was in poor shape, scarred by scorch marks, but it would do nicely.

He placed a hand on the armor and it became part of him. He recalled the stories he’d been told as a child, the ones his _abuela_ used to spin when he’d acted out, the ones about owls. They were signs of death, harbingers of bad omens; everything he would be. Particles swirled in a vortex in front of his face, taking the shape in his mind, becoming a mask; the last thing those he sought would see before he snuffed them out.

He was Angela’s mistake and Gabriel’s vengeance. Those who’d killed him the first time would wish he’d remained so. He would make them suffer for their sins, and his, and then he’d take their souls; a reaper of the damned.

They would all pay.

**END CHAPTER 5**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say here; it's short (so I'm giving you guys a double update, hot damn), gets us from Point Gabe to Point Reaper. Thanks to Mel for continuing to beta read this beast. 
> 
> The whole thing about how Gabe makes his Reaper outfit was inspired by that one post floating around Tumblr that theorizes Jack and Gabe's current garb was basically inspired by what the other wore before they died. So, I went with it.
> 
> My version of Sombra is in the next chapter.


	6. Machines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper is contracted by Talon and meets a kindred spirit.

The mercenary known as Reaper had spent years building up a reputation, so it didn’t come as a surprise to him when Talon had finally reached out. He was on a mission in Cairo; a simple assignment for an exceptionally wealthy client that involved killing a dignitary known for throwing extravagant parties, some of which were in other people’s houses. Reaper had briefly entertained the idea of eliminating him in front of his guests, but the client had asked for stealth, so, the dignitary had met his end halfway through a sip of gin with none, not even the servants, having heard him take his last breath.

As soon as he’d left the property he’d received a message on his secure business e-mail. It had read: _We’ve been watching you. Your services would be most valuable._ Below had been a set of coordinates. The message had piqued his curiosity, but nothing else. He had no fear of men and what they could do, for he was far worse.

With little deliberation he’d shown up at the location indicated by the coordinates, out in the open in an empty hangar. He was greeted by a single man in a pressed black suit, dark of skin and hair who spoke in smooth Arabic, “I am pleased you accepted our invitation.”

Reaper’s chuckle echoed. He responded in kind, a creature of many languages. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“The answer depends on whether or not you’re willing to work for us.”

He cocked his head to the side, voice guttural. “Can you afford me?”

The man before him smirked, “I assure you money is not a factor, even to purchase a man with your… unique skillset.”

Reaper shadow stepped forward, his mask inches from the man’s face. The representative’s features remained calm, but his heart beat betrayed him, as did his soul. Reaper had learned to glean information from souls, taking in an amount so miniscule it wouldn’t be noticed, but it was enough for him to receive the surface thoughts and emotions of his target. As handy as it was, the ability did take exceptional concentration on his part, as he was constantly fighting the urge to consume all of that precious energy. This man was no different.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Reaper said, tone menacing, taking advantage of the fear that permeated the man.

In response, he produced a phone from his breast pocket and showed Reaper the screen. He scoffed. That was a lot of zeroes, not that he actually needed the money, but he was fine letting them think he did.

“Your sign-on bonus. Of course, you’ll have to agree to our terms, which you should find amicable.”

“I do as I please.”

“We thought you might say that.”

More zeroes were tacked onto the number on the phone screen.

Reaper stayed intentionally silent, enjoying how utterly uncomfortable it made the representative, which got worse when he realized how several tendrils of Reaper’s smoke had wrapped around his body with the subtle embrace of a python.

“Hmm…” Reaper rumbled low. “Who will I be working for?”

It was the next logical thing to have said. He knew, of course, and had known since he’d received their message.

“Talon,” the man replied, trying to inch away from Reaper.

“Talon,” he repeated, even tone, masking his utter satisfaction. “Very well.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” The man stepped back through his smoke and motioned outside. “There’s a plane on the tarmac waiting for you. It will take you to headquarters to finalize the details of the arrangement.”

Reaper nodded and left.  
 

* * *

 

The flight had taken hours. Talon had put him on a stealth craft, new yet oddly familiar. The confined quarters and red interior lighting would have taken him back to days when he was shoulder to shoulder with people he trusted, and thought he could, back when the only tension was that of each agent mentally preparing for the task ahead of them, back when he’d reassure a nervous kid in a cowboy hat with a nod and words only he understood the meaning to. Reaper would have thought of those things had he not shelved them long ago. Instead he’d spent the flight mulling over all of the wonderfully horrible things he’d do to those who’d killed him, the fantasy suddenly on the cusp of being, more intoxicating than any soul he’d taken.

The excitement was consuming, but not so much as to remove his focus from his surroundings. They were losing altitude, sharp yet steady, and he leaned forward, peering down the short corridor into the open cockpit. He was in an arid place, a desert, though he couldn’t pinpoint where, and soon he saw the landscape disappear as the craft entered an underground hangar. When it landed the door lifted open on its own and he was greeted by another suit, the only thing different about him from the other one was he looked like he hadn’t seen the sun for most of his life and wore a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Nicholas König,” he said with a smile, extending a hand adorned with too many rings to Reaper as he stepped off the plane.

Reaper didn’t reciprocate. He was aware that most of the activity in the hangar had halted; mechanics no longer worked on their aircraft, pilots stopped mid-stride, and soldiers carrying gear for their next mission hung in groups, staring at him and König. Reaper wasn’t sure who they were more interested in.

König lowered his hand but not his smile. “I am the Talon Operations Manager, second only to the Directorate. You will be reporting to me.”

Reaper nodded once, slow, deliberate, his smoke production increasing for effect. He could sense those in the area were growing uneasy, and he hoped that feeling would swell to fear. He liked fear; it kept people unfocused, made them easy to exploit.

“A man of few words I see.”

“You sought me. The initiative is yours.” Reaper said flatly. “I’m just here for the paycheck.”

“Only for the money?” König’s brow elevated slightly and a smirk formed. “I’d heard you derive certain,” he took a deep breath through his nose, “enjoyment from your work.”

Reaper chuckled. “Where did you hear that?”

“From the bodies you leave in your wake, albeit very few.”

“Client requests,” he replied, though each had been a joy to stage out in the open. He’d always had a taste for theatrics, and creative clients were his favorite.

König laughed. “You should fit well here.” He turned on the heel of his dress shoe and ushered with a wave. “Please, Reaper, this way.”

He was led through the hangar, all eyes on him as his bottom half dissolved and he glided behind his escort, billowing smoke. He didn’t need to glean König’s soul to know the man had many secrets hidden beneath, and while Reaper looked forward to learning them, he realized it would be a difficult task; König had no fear of him. In fact, the man seemed to radiate an aura of pride over his new hire, and bled confidence in a way Reaper hadn’t seen in years. It was infuriating, but only because it stirred his own memories, the smile of a man he’d written off briefly breaching the surface. He was quick to bury it.

Talon’s base was, as expected, extensive. The hallway off the hangar was wide; ceiling arced like a tunnel with soft white lighting between supportive brushed metal structures, which were evenly spaced as far as he could see. Either automatic doors or open branches of the hall were set between them, leading to other parts of the base.

Anyone they passed got out of their way. Reaper, on occasion, would angle his mask to meet the stares of Talon agents, flashing his eyes red just to see how they reacted. Most kept themselves in check, but he heard the echoes of hurried whispering when they thought he was out of earshot.

“I hope I don’t have to work with him,” one had said.

“What do you think he is?” another had asked. “That smoke’s not toxic is it?”

_Why don’t you come here and find out?_

He briefly wondered what stories they’d heard about him. Reaper grinned, hoping they’d been good ones. If not, then he’d be sure to create some.

Eventually, they reached a set of frosted glass double doors. A biometric scanner washed over König and then allowed him entrance into an office area, which seemed to mash modern architecture with that of a palace. On either side of the hall were columns, and beyond them were open areas of white desks mottled by potted plants. Logistics and financial agents sat comfortably in front of holographic screens, openly displaying their work. The far walls were huge plate glass windows, and a simulated forest scene was depicted outside them, masking the confining notion that they were underground. A receptionist was positioned at the end of the hall, but they had to pass a fountain of a sea serpent devouring a ship to get there.

“Hello Mr. König,” the receptionist said, looking up from his screen. “All of your appointments are held as requested.”

“ _Wunderbar, danke_.” König replied, leading Reaper around the false wall behind the reception area to his office, the front of which was concealed by more frosted glass. König’s name was printed in gold on his door. Once inside he motioned to a royal blue couch in an island of furniture with the flick of his wrist, “Please, sit.”

Reaper took the arm chair instead. König’s office was full of statues and paintings, probably lifted from museums or homes. His desk was a chunk of black marble flecked with gold, a holographic projector embedded in its surface. Behind the high-backed leather chair towered an open bar with racks of alcohol; deep browns, sanguine reds, and rich golds gleaming under the office lights. _A rich fool with rich tastes._

“May I offer you a drink?”

Reaper laughed. “No point.” He hadn’t been able to taste anything normal since he’d died. Not that it bothered him any. As with most aspects of what he was, he’d become all too used to it. Even his constant pain was numbing, at least when he wasn’t focused on it.

“Something to do with that smoke of yours?” In reply Reaper blew more out of the nose hole of his mask and König eyed it, watching it fade before it touched the ceiling. “What is it, anyway?”

“Death.” He was completely serious. It was waste; dead nanites and spent biological matter, never ending in its cycle of repair and decay. He’d been told by previous clients he’d smelled like ash. It was accurate. He burned every second of his existence.

“Dramatic, aren’t we?,” König said, not bothering to inquire further as he poured himself some white wine and sat at his desk, leaning back. He watched the wine lap at the sides of the glass as he lazily swirled it around. “Well, as you’re aware you’ve been on our radar for quite some time, Reaper. Your abilities and methods not only piqued my interest, but that of our Directorate. We have some specific missions that need to be attended to; some targets that are elusive, or difficult to reach that we believe you’re ideal for.”

“Sounds good,” Reaper almost cooed. He folded his arms, talons drumming against his forearms.

“There is very little we ask of you. Report to me or your assigned coordinator after missions. We expect completion.”

“Of course. I don’t fail.”

“We know.” König took a sip of his wine. “You may continue to work outside the organization. You are not tethered here, though our assignments will take priority over all others, and you will be compensated fairly to ensure that is the case. Also,” König’s blue eyes briefly grew cold, “We do expect absolute confidentiality, no matter the circumstance. I’m sure that won’t be an issue.”

Reaper nodded, smirking a bit under his mask, König’s stare saying more than his words had. Should he fail, should he be captured, they’d make sure he’d be silenced. Talon didn’t like loose ends, but he already knew that far better than most. They had tried to kill him in another life, more than once. They were welcome to try again.

“ _Sehr gut_.” König’s smile, which Reaper was beginning to find obnoxious, returned. He was about to say something, but suddenly the holographic screen came to life, projecting on the space between them. There was a chime and a message popped up in the corner. He narrowed his eyes, muttering the word “impatient”, and closed it before Reaper could figure out what it was.

“Somewhere you need to be?” Reaper asked, tilting his head to the side.

“No.” König pushed a button on his desk. The lights dimmed. “Just a reminder to satisfy my curiosities,” his voice rose in volume, and he glared at a security camera in the corner of the office, “not that it was required.”

Reaper also looked at the camera. _Now, who’s watching? Clearly gets under König’s skin. Could be useful._

König pushed a button on the armrest of his chair and the lights dimmed. “I make it my prerogative to look into everyone we contract. You are a difficult subject, Reaper; hard to track,” a few blurry pictures of Reaper appeared on screen, most of them in his wraith form,” even harder to attribute,” the images shifted, showing some familiar, empty crime scenes where he recalled having eaten the remains, accompanying missing persons reports with headshots, and a few withered bodies, “and provided a great challenge to our Information Specialist, the first in a long while, but she did manage to supply a few points of interest.”

“Oh?” Reaper chuckled, leaning into the cushions. He draped his arms across the back of the couch. “And what might those be?”

“I hope we can keep this civil,” König said, taking another sip of his wine, the many rings on his fingers catching the light of the screen.

“What reason would I have to attack my paycheck?” Reaper asked, tone daring König to give him one.

“You’d be surprised,” König’s words were rife with sarcasm. “People aren’t keen on us digging through all of their wonderful secrets.”

 _I’m not a person._ _I’m much more._ Reaper offered an open palm, “Try me.”

“For one, you’ve only existed for a few years, and in that time you’ve managed to turn yourself into one of the most highly sought after mercenaries to date, meaning you’ve had prior experience, which led me to question, what kind?”

_The kind that buries people like you. All of you._

“Fortunately your bank accounts provided the answer.” König paused, waiting to see if Reaper would react. When he didn’t, he continued. Names appeared on screen. “Does Enrique Vasquez, Andrew Craine, or Sergei Voronov sound familiar to you?”

“Should they?”

Of course they did. He’d chosen them intentionally. Reaper had no reason to hide and nothing to lose; not anymore. He’d noticed hesitation, perhaps resentment, when König mentioned Voronov’s name. It must have been the lingering memory of failure attached to it. Voronov had been sent to kill him, part of Talon like too many members of Reaper’s old house of cards, and his pathetic past-self had almost been too consumed by his weakness to realize it in time. His old distractions, his sentiments, had cost him dearly, and Reaper wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

“They’re all Blackwatch agents, or should I say, were, as they’re deceased. You’ve been using their names to store your funds. Convenient, as record of those individuals no longer exists, scrubbed after Overwatch disbanded.”

_By Talon._

“In order to use their identities as you are, one would need to have first-hand knowledge of them, likely over years of personal interaction, and access to their personnel files. So I ask, Reaper, are you former Blackwatch?”

He scoffed. “Something like that.”

“The answer is fairly simple. Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

König tented his fingers, gaze narrow. “Who?” Reaper sensed a statement hanging on König’s tongue: _The ones left are ours._

Reaper took a moment, allowing his face to let go so it was worse than it usually was: a few more extra eyes, the right side of his mouth extending into his ear to create a permanent saw-toothed grin, and his skin splitting in more places so more smoke leaked out. When he thought he looked sufficiently more hideous he stood, slowly approaching König’s desk. He put his head through the projected screen, steeled himself, and reached for his mask.

König’s reaction was better than expected. He knocked his wine glass off his desk as he pushed back against it, nearly toppling his chair to put some distance between him and Reaper. “ _You_.” König drew a gun from a concealed shoulder holster.

“Me,” Reaper grinned, running a black tongue over his teeth, red eyes glowing wildly.

“What happened to you?”

“Hell didn’t want me,” he replied, eyeing the gun. “Go ahead.” _I already tried._

König didn’t fire.

Reaper let him get a good, long look at his face before slipping his mask back on, for an instant feeling vulnerable, _weak,_ that familiar urge to dissolve creeping. A silent part of him could deny what he was when he wore his mask, and that denial, to some extent, helped him exist. But, he supposed, if showing himself meant he’d at least throw one of Talon’s officers off his game, then he’d make an exception.

“But we…” König’s voice trailed off, staring at Reaper knowing he’d started to say something he shouldn’t have.

“Dropped a building on me?”

Silence.

“It worked. That old soldier is gone.” Talon couldn’t do anything else to him that hadn’t already been done. He couldn’t be killed, not by his own hand and not by others, and Reaper enjoyed the idea of König, and whoever else he told, constantly wondering if he was going to retaliate. Oh, he would, but he planned to savor it, knowing he had all of the time in the world. “I am what remains. My reputation speaks for itself.” Reaper withdrew his face from the screen. “Now, you said you had work for me?”

The question didn’t register at first. König was likely surprised he was still breathing, and as much as Reaper wanted to choke him to death with a piece of his wine glass, he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. Reaper was here, after all, to gather information and add more names to his list.

“König,” he said with a snarl. “If I’d wanted to kill you it would have already happened. I didn’t accept your offer to stand around in your office.”

He shook his head, dispelling his shock. “Yes, of course.” König cleared his throat. “Our Information Specialist has the briefing for your first mission. I’ll have someone escort you to her, just–”

Reaper heard the same chime from before and a multi-level map of the base appeared on screen. A red dot labeled: “ _Estás aquí.” w_ as at König’s office with a line leading through the base to a room several floors below. Another dot sat on the destination room beside the words: “ _Estoy aquí._ _Encuentrame.”_. Reaper committed the path to memory and looked at the security camera.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “I’ll expect my deposit shortly.” With a flourish of his coat Reaper spun around and made his way to the depths of Talon’s base.

 

* * *

 

The room was far away from any activity, located on the bottom floor at the very center of the complex. Reaper had to take an elevator to get there, as it was the only access point he found, and when he arrived he was greeted by a dark, narrow corridor with purple ambient lighting. He strode down it, a set of automatic doors opening for him onto a massive spherical space. There were holographic screens everywhere, floating against the smooth black wall of the sphere. Lines of code, websites, and streaming video occupied the air, and in the middle of it all was a control chair and an arced panel that fully encompassed it, save for an opening aligned with the door. He saw a pair of small yet slender hands operating the panel with the dexterity and grace of a concert pianist, soul as bright as any.

“I thought your entrance would be more fun,” an accented female voice said, motioning to an air vent. “I half expected you to come in through there.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

All of the screens suddenly changed to the security feed from König’s office, focusing in on a maskless Reaper and König pointing his gun. Reaper couldn’t look at himself, instead focusing on the back of the chair.

“ _Dos Reyes_. _Sin violencia._ _Qué aburrido_.” Before Reaper had a chance to get angry the chair spun around and a small woman hopped down.

She was dressed in dark grey, flowing fabric of a hooded cloak cascading down her shoulders to stop above her waist. Beneath the cloak she wore a lightly armored body suit, which covered her hands and presumably feet, though she had on a pair of ankle boots. Upon closer inspection Reaper noticed her arms were actually robotic, electric violet lighting running through them down to fingers that ended in clawed tips. Her face was obscured by a helmeted visor, sleek and black, which covered her eyes and nose. Only her mouth, painted a poisonous purple, poked through against dark brown skin. She approached, cocking her head to the side as she examined him, circling like a predator.

Reaper said nothing, not quite certain what to make of her, eyes following her under his mask.

Soon, she stopped in front of him and offered a hand. Her lips drew into a smile. “ _Soy Sombra.”_

Reaper angled his head down to stare at her hand, neglecting to reciprocate the gesture for a second time. These people didn’t deserve courtesy.

“Not very forthcoming, are we Gabriel?”

He bristled and flatly replied, “Gabriel is dead.”

“Oh, you’re going to be fun,” she mused. Sombra laughed, which had the quality of an electric current and existed somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. She flicked her fingers and a compartment in her palm opened, spitting out a small ear piece. “For you. Your other ear still works, yes?” She tapped the side of her head. “The one without the teeth.”

Reaper held out his palm, turning it up. When she pressed the device into it her hand slid to touch his. On contact he was bombarded by a strange sensation, all of his nanites seeming to react at once, and for an instant he could feel each and every one shifting. It felt like drowning, like water was being forced into his dead lungs as if they’d fucking decided to work again, and he reflexively gasped. Sombra’s hand laid atop his while the other came to rest beneath, and when it did everything stopped, replaced by a dull, yet soothing pulse, somehow overtaking his constant pain.

“What are you do–” he managed.

“You’re very interesting, _Gabriel._ ” Her lips didn’t move and her voice came from everywhere, from inside his head, echoing through his bones as if she were a god. “I’ve never met a machine like you.” She was so demure compared to him, about a foot shorter, and yet she had full control. A calavera had appeared on the face of her visor, lines of code running in the background and he swore he saw some bleed onto her skin in a glow of violet, resembling, in places, a circuit board. “So much information gated…”

“What are you doing?” He said with a growl, though he made no effort to protest, no attempt to materialize his shotguns. There was a… connection between them. Reaper couldn’t describe it any other way. He could see into Sombra’s being like he did when he took souls, but he wasn’t accessing hers, not even a little. She was not a threat to him, even though Sombra was reading him somehow. How deeply she delved he couldn’t tell, but his usual response to any sort of vulnerability didn’t occur; he didn’t want to run and he didn’t get angry. Instead, Reaper found comfort in her presence, and it confounded him.

“ _Soy Dios en la máquina_ , _Rey en Negro._ ” She smiled.

“Are you… hacking me?” It sounded absurd.

“Talking to you,” she replied. “And you’re all talking back. It’s wonderful, actually. There are so many of you… all in pain… so much lost…” Her voice trailed and her hands slid away, the loss of connection jarring. His pain returned to the forefront and he flexed his talons.

Sombra nodded to herself, clapping once. “Alright. I’m in.”

“What?” Reaper’s head snapped towards her.

“I’ll help you.”

“With what?”

“Your vengeance.” She sneered, pressing a finger into his chest. “Oh I do love the game you play. Talon won’t,” she shrugged, “but who cares, hmm?”

He hadn’t said a damn thing, but his nanites had. “How much did those little bastards tell you?”

“Enough. You’re all ones and zeros to me Gabriel–”

“Reaper.” He said with conviction, with malice.

“ _Si, si, claro, Reaper._ ” She waved a hand dismissively, continuing. “Most of your code is hard to access, but your soul is written on every nanite; your hatred, your need for retribution… it will be most entertaining,” she knit her fingers together, and her lips pouted. “I don’t want to be left out.” Sombra smiled again.

“And what if I decide I don’t want your damn help?” He tensed, fully aware the whole meeting could have been a set-up, his years of careful plotting blown in a matter of minutes by a tiny cyborg woman. Reaper’s senses were on high alert, but other than him and Sombra, there was no one even remotely nearby. Still, he was ready.

“You’ll need it, unless you happen to know another master hacker.” Sombra looked around as if someone was going to magically appear in the room. “No? I thought not.” She spun and returned to her chair, but remained facing him when she sat, crossing her legs while idly tapping one foot in the air. “You’re upset. Don’t worry _Rey en Negro_ , no one else knows but me.” She touched the control panel with one finger. A progress bar appeared and when it filled the security footage was gone, all of the screens returning to what they had been previously. “See, into the digital void it goes.”

“You’re with Talon.” He said, leaving the question of why she’d want to bring them down out in the air.

She caught it, laughing. “I’m employed by them. I’m not with them. Like you. As for why, well, it’s the same reason I do anything: the challenge. That’s probably not good enough, huh? You may be asking why I’d be willing to leave a place like this,” she lifted her arms, motioning to the entirety of the spherical room, “where I’m safe, where the world is at my fingertips, everything it offers for the taking?”

Reaper nodded.

“Safety is boring. Comfort is limiting. _El caos es la vida_.”

In that moment he approached Sombra, towering over her, and in doing so, drew in a small part of her soul. It didn’t lie; her words were true, and her intent was genuine. Reaper didn’t like the idea of trusting her though – he hadn’t trusted anyone since the failure of a certain doctor –, but he accepted that Sombra’s position, and her help, could be invaluable to his mission. Reluctantly, he offered a hand.

Sombra’s grin reached her ears beneath her helmeted visor. She shook his hand. He didn’t feel anything like before.

“Now,” she said, looking up to meet the dark, hollowed sockets of his mask, “let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

Beneath, Reaper’s grin matched hers.

**END CHAPTER 6**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this version of Sombra based solely on the bits we got from the ARG, before the possible model leak. Regardless of how she ends up being in canon, the version here is the one I'll be using for this story. [I drew a portrait sketch here.](http://kerrigore.tumblr.com/post/151032710800/dios-est%C3%A1-en-la-m%C3%A1quina-probably-a-little-late) Might do a full-body concept at some point.
> 
> Thanks again for reading. I really appreciate it, as well as the feedback. Also, as usual, thanks to Mel for betaing. If there are any mistakes in my Spanish (it's been years since I've taken it), please correct me.
> 
> Alternate title for this chapter is Two Kings and a God.


	7. An Old Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper's mission is interrupted by a familiar white-haired pest in a gaudy leather jacket.

Reaper’s list had grown larger than he’d anticipated, and when he wasn’t having an intense internal debate regarding whether or not he should add Sombra to it, he was begrudgingly grateful to have her around. She’d helped him cross off dozens of names while he fielded ops for Talon, them none the wiser about what he did on his own time. She made certain of that. Sombra’s ability to control information should have been legendary, probably was in some circles, turning lies into truth with the speed of a machine. And she reveled in it. He did too.

“Hey Reaper, König just gifted you another assignment,” Sombra’s voice chimed in his ear.

“Where’s the cockroach want to send me this time?” Reaper glided across a rooftop, leaping to the next, ignoring the sounds of the festival below. He carefully avoided the light generated by the copious amounts of paper lanterns, eyeing dancing shadows moving along with mariachi music. “I swear if it’s in the ass end of the world in some blizzard again I’m going to snap and just off him.”

“ _Por favor_ ,” she huffed, “it’s not like the cold bothers you any.”

“I still hate snow.”

“You hate everything, _Rey en Negro.”_

Not everything. He’d genuinely enjoyed removing the many festering boils masquerading as people from the world; former UN members, former Overwatch: those he’d seen in passing on base or known personally, gone, their deaths not even having made the local news. Though, he hadn’t murdered any Talon members, well, mostly.

There had been an agent who’d tried to remove his mask, so Reaper had removed his face in front of an entire mess hall. Sombra had been in stitches about it after, and he was slightly less angry at her for having convinced him to fetch her rice pudding. The remnants of Blackwatch had been there, witnessed a small taste of what he could do. There was a special place in his Hell for them all, and like the patient monster he was he intended wait to for the opportunity to do the most damage.

“What’s the mission?” Reaper asked again.

Sombra cackled. “I’ll check in a minute when I’m done destroying these kids.”

Reaper groaned. “Sombra, get _off_ the forums.”

“ _Si, si, espere._ ”

“ _Sombra_.”

She didn’t reply, and he knew he wouldn’t get one until she was done obsessively picking apart the opinions of people younger than her with an assassin’s precision, so, he waited.

“Alright,” Sombra paused, presumably reading, “oh, it’s just an information gathering op in London. The target’s not even going to be there until next week. _Qué aburrido_.”

“Fine by me,” Reaper said, jumping from a building to land out in the open for a brief moment, taking his wraith form as he moved out of the main hub of Dorado towards a hill on its outskirts. A white mansion, gated off from the rest of the community, loomed atop it. “Gives me more time to enjoy myself.”

“Mmm... Your target is still in his study,” Sombra said. “For a rich _gringo_ his security system isn’t very good. Hacked into it while watching _Law and Order: Omnic Division_. Didn’t even get a hand cramp.”

Reaper went to knead his brow and shook his head when his fingers touched his mask instead. If she started telling him about that show again he’d crush his earpiece.

“What’s he doing?”

“S _entado en su culo gordo_. He’s about halfway through that bottle of mezcal. Hope you can get something from him, since the banker was mostly a bust.” She sighed, sounding almost wistful. “Did he at least taste good? Do souls have a taste?” He could hear the frustration bubbling beneath her cheery tone. Sombra was almost never frustrated, truly loving every surprise thrown at her, but an ongoing puzzle had been causing them both problems.

From Sombra he’d learned that Talon operated under the will of a Directorate, all people of power using their organization to manipulate the world as they selfishly saw fit. She’d met them once, rather interrupted them during a meeting with König. None of their faces had been visible on the feed, she’d said, and efforts to track them just led to a maze of proxies – _clearly_ they had a team protecting them because there was _no one_ as good as her, she’d claimed –, but she’d at least been able to see there were six council members and one of them spoke Italian. Wasn’t much to go by, but they’d started in Italy.

In order to kill Talon Reaper needed to remove the heads and the body would crumble soon after. The trouble was he didn’t know who any of them were, and neither did Sombra. She had infected König’s system long before they’d ever hired Reaper, and she’d come to the conclusion the Operation’s Director didn’t know their identities either, though he answered to their faceless silhouettes often enough.

_“You’re telling me you’ve never tried to record their conversations before?”_

_She shrugged. “Never had a reason to before, Rey en Negro. Not like I can do it now. After the “Sombra Incidient”,” she spoke with air quotes, trying to deepen her voice while adding a German accent to sound like_ _König. It was a very poor impression and Reaper was far from amused, “he doesn’t take Directorate communications in his office anymore. He’s got a separate room with its own power source and independent network, infierno, even its own security. I can’t get in remotely, not from my hub, as impressive as it is.” She put a hand on her hip, pointing at him with the other, “Anyway, I’m not the ninja here. You’re the Black Ops guy; you get in there and bug the place. Then I’ll get you your recording.”_

_“I have no intel.” Reaper replied with a growl, a talon aimed in her direction. “You get me a blueprint and I’ll get in there.”_

That had been over a year ago and she still hadn’t been able to find one, so they’d gone with other options between his missions, most of them dead ends, until they found a banker in Florence elbow deep in Talon money laundering operations. Reaper had planned to interrogate him, but the man had gotten hit by a tourist’s car walking out of a Starbucks and put in the hospital. Fun ruined, he’d just devoured his soul instead. It had taken him a while to parse the right information from everything else stuck in his head, but Reaper had been able to provide Sombra with access codes to the banker’s computer and all of his managed accounts.

She’d found no direct evidence of the banker having any ties to the Directorate, instead realizing he was only in charge of moving the money into offshore accounts, captured banks, or shell corporations in that part of Europe, all of which Sombra kept tabs on. While wading through that mess she’d found an encrypted e-mail that mentioned the Directorate by name, which had brought them to a retired UN accountant named Hugo Whitney, who seemed to be managing Talon’s money and assigning it to accounts across the globe.

Reaper shadow stepped his way into a tree, concealed amongst the dense, hanging foliage of a cypress. Squatting, he surveyed the mansion, taking in locations of souls belonging to his target, security, and staff. Target: top floor, northeastern side with three more people on the same floor. Middle floor had two. Bottom floor had eight.

He was about to move when something familiar caught his sense, and his head snapped in its direction. Another soul was close; on the ground near the fence. It was far from the first time he’d encountered it during missions, different than all of the others for some reason: blazing blue and white. Reaper barely got out of the tree as a pair of rockets connected with where he’d been perched, setting branches ablaze in explosive fury. He went into a combat roll and got to his feet.

“Was that an explosion?” Sombra’s voice chirped in his ear.

“ _Mierda._ ”

“Oh, has the pest returned?” she giggled. “I think he likes you.”

Reaper summoned his shotguns and spoke curtly, “I’ll call you back.” _Watch the target_. It went without saying. The communicator shut off and he dodged oncoming rounds of pulse fire, shotguns bellowing their retaliation. “You again, why am I not surprised?”

“Could say the same about you,” a gruff voice replied beneath a red tactical visor. “I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I don’t care.”

The Soldier, a vigilante, a constant thorn in a gaudy leather jacket, always seemed to show up at the worst times, as if he were Reaper’s shadow. He fired again, and Reaper became intangible, rounds passing through him and striking the tree trunk. Reaper was well aware of the security guards streaming out of the mansion, and wanted nothing to do with them, regardless of how easily he could take them out. The Soldier was his and his alone.

He fired, shotgun spray hitting the iron fence, the Soldier sprinting down it towards the gate, which hadn’t been open when Reaper arrived earlier. Clearly, his new target wanted nothing to do with the guards either. _All the better_. Reaper became a wraith, following the Soldier back into the city, weaving through alleys, staying away from areas of activity until he ducked into an abandoned factory building.

The Soldier had disappeared, or would have if Reaper were a normal being, but his soul, a beacon of predatory attraction, shone bright behind a stack of crates.

 _Why are you so different?_ He was compelled, drawn to souls when he was hungry, but he’d eaten before this mission, always did, yet the feeling with this one was much stronger than it should have been. He had an idea, of course, had one since the first time he’d encountered the Soldier a few months back in Prague, but hadn’t been able to test it. If it were true, though, his delight would far outweigh his annoyance over the situation. Since Prague they’d fought many times, and even if Reaper hadn’t possessed the ability to detect his soul, he’d still be able to react to the man. His movements were so _familiar_ , like an old dance partner, Reaper knowing exactly what the Soldier was going to do before he did it without having to think about it.

And it’s what led Reaper to flank him in silence, the Soldier barely reacting in time. A shotgun blast tore through the crate he’d had his back against, spitting splinters of wood. The Soldier dove out of the way, firing at Reaper, who laughed as the bullets sailed through him. He wanted to allow some to tear through his solid form, rip through his sad excuses for organs, spurt rotting ink, just to show the Soldier how futile his efforts were when he still stood before him, but his nanites were just _so_ reactive to potentially lethal damage when they had fresh energy. _Pity._

He shot at the Soldier again, who returned fire and took cover behind a dolly over stacked with hover car parts. The Soldier was fast, impressively so, but he was only a man, and men tired. Death did not. Reaper threw his guns aside when he ran out of ammunition, shadows extending from the back of his coat to reabsorb them. He lunged for the Soldier, phasing right through his cover, taking him by surprise. The Soldier threw Reaper off of him, his body twisting around as Reaper quickly recovered, claws lashing out. They caught the fabric of his flex armor, tearing at his neck. Reaper grabbed at the pulse rifle, marring it with gashes, the sound of steel against steel.

The rifle suddenly pushed forward and struck Reaper’s mask, doing so repeatedly until some distance was put between them. The Soldier hopped back, emptying more shots into Reaper’s body, which continued to pass right through. Reaper knocked the pulse rifle out of the Soldier’s hands with a heavy kick, sending it spinning across the factory floor. He heard the Soldier growl low and then a fist swung at his head. Reaper ducked, weaving through the Soldier’s attacks. He threw a punch at the Soldier’s midsection, but he caught Reaper’s fist, twisting it before he could do anything about it.

With strength only few could manage – one, Reaper mentally corrected, just one other – Reaper was thrown against the remnants of a vehicle chassis halfway across the factory floor. The Soldier bolted for his pulse rifle, and when he got it fired another rocket in Reaper’s direction. It blew up a nearby assembly machine, sending thick, black smoke into the air. Reaper had phased out of physical being before the rocket hit and had become part of that smoke, which swirled into a vortex, catching embers, only his mask visible as the smoke coiled in air; the stark white of bleached bone against black and blazing orange. He reared back like a cobra, and dove for the Soldier, an arm emerging from the billowing mass, shotgun in hand.

He squeezed the trigger and hit the Soldier’s shoulder, blowing it apart. The Soldier cried out, blood and sinew spraying Reaper’s mask as he landed and reformed his body from the chaos. With a hand around the Soldier’s throat, Reaper dragged his stunned target and slammed him against the wall, prying the pulse rifle from his gloved fingers and throwing it away.

“Pathetic,” Reaper chided. “Is that all the fight you’re going to give me?” They’d had much more evenly matched encounters in the past. Something was holding the Soldier back. Fatigue? Recent injuries? Old age? Reaper snickered.

“Go to hell.” The Soldier’s breathing was ragged. His right arm sagged, limp; shoulder blade, clavicle, and joint in ruin, muscle shredded beyond uselessness, crimson dying the blue of his jacket a ruddy purple.

“Been there,” Reaper said, tilting his head to the side, amused, “done that.” He noticed the Soldier’s fingers were twitching and chuckled darkly. “Does it hurt?”

Before the Soldier could answer Reaper lowered him and pushed his armored boot into his torso, the Soldier’s good hand grasping his ankle. A shotgun appeared in Reaper’s hand. He kept it trained on the Soldier’s head, which lowered as he wheezed. It had a wet quality.

“Get it over with,” he grumbled, voice heavy.

“I could,” Reaper shuffled the boot that pinned the Solder to the side, exposing his abdomen. He flicked the fingers of his free hand as if he were extending claws, letting them catch in the moonlight that cascaded through a nearby broken window. “But this is so much more fun.” Reaper drove his claws into the Soldier, reveling in how quickly they sunk through his toned, but ultimately soft flesh. The Soldier’s cry of pain made it all the better, head tilting back as his body arced against the wall.

Reaper spied a glint of metal around the Soldier’s neck through the sliced flex armor. He grabbed beneath his chin to keep his head in place, using a bloody thumb talon to fish for it. The Soldier squirmed in his grip.

“Hands off,” he warned with a growl, though unable to do much more than that.

A simple metal chain caught around Reaper’s claw, and he yanked, breaking it. Holding onto both ends he pulled out a pair of dog tags. Reaper didn’t even have to read them to know who they’d belonged to. _So it really is you._

Reaper laughed.

“Give those back.” The Soldier reached for them, pressing into Reaper’s boot, undeterred by his injuries as he pushed with all of his body weight, straining to brush the tags with his fingers as Reaper held them up, just out of reach. “You have no right to touch them.”

“Someone important?” Reaper said, putting more pressure on the Soldier’s chest. “Careful,” he motioned with his shotgun, “or I’ll blow apart your other shoulder.”

The Soldier ignored him, still trying to grasp the dog tags as more blood oozed from his wounds. He coughed again.

“I wonder why you’re so insistent on having these back?” Reaper tapped a tag with the tip of a claw. He stared at them briefly before turning his attention back to the Soldier.

“Wouldn’t matter to a creature like you anyway.”

Reaper scoffed, “No, I suppose not.” He noticed the Soldier’s brow elevate when the dog tags started to dissolve from the bottom up, particles pulling into his fingertips as if they were being erased from existence.

The Soldier didn’t speak, but his breathing became more erratic.

Reaper wedged his talons in the seams of the Soldier’s mask with enough force to send cracks spidering through the edges. There was no effort made to stop him. When it was pulled loose, Reaper saw what he’d expected: the face of someone he’d tried to forget but never truly could. Jack Morrison stared at him, no, more accurately he stared past him, blue eyes blown wide. He was old, wrinkles creasing his forehead and the corners of his eyes. His once blonde hair, the color of a California sun, had faded completely and become white as if winter had snuck up on him, hairline receding. Two scars sliced diagonally across his face. The one over his lip didn’t appear to have healed properly, leaving a visible hole in the skin that pulled his mouth into an uncharacteristic snarl. Burns marred his strong jawline, neck, and part of his cheek, leaving a trellis of split blood vessels amongst the twisted flesh. A bead of crimson dribbled from the corner of his raw lips. There was some blood spatter inside of his visor, which Reaper dropped.

“Jack Morrison,” Reaper said, drawing out the last syllable of his name to turn it into a low growl. “Overwatch’s famous fallen commander is still playing soldier.”

“Why?” Jack’s voice was low, somber. He still didn’t look at Reaper, which pissed him off. He didn’t like being ignored. “Why would you take away the only thing I have left of him?”

Reaper didn’t say anything. He wasn’t the least bit bothered by Jack’s question. Reaper had discarded his past life, but the sentimental fool, after six years, still held on like it was the only thing keeping him together. Perhaps, Reaper considered, it was. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“If you’re going to kill me, then just go ahead and do it,” Jack said. His eyes met the hollows of Reaper’s mask with a flash of anger. “You have no reason to stall this out any longer.” His voice fell and he averted his gaze. Jack took a moment to steady his breathing, but he was unable to stay the shaking fingers that dug into Reaper’s boot. “I’ll be with you soon…”

Reaper chuckled. “No,” he leaned in, putting more pressure on Jack’s chest. Reaper thought he heard a rib crack, but Jack gave no affirmation. Reaper’s mask was so close to Jack’s face he could feel his breath, “There’s no one waiting for you on the other side, and that’s something you should have found out much sooner.”

“Fuck off,” Jack spat.

Reaper knew he should be more restrained, should drag it out longer, but he couldn’t stop himself. His anger blossomed and it dredged up memories long buried. He hated feeling those things, but he finally had someone to properly take it out on, someone who deserved it without question. “Maybe you’ll stay dead this time instead of lying and walking away from everyone you ever cared about, but then again, you were always so good at that, weren’t you Jack?”

“What?”

“So adept at abandoning people when they needed you most.”

“Who are you?”

Reaper flung his head back and cackled. Sombra was rubbing off on him. “Still haven’t figured it out yet? And here I used to think you were the more perceptive one,” he paused making eye contact with Jack, though he’d be unable to tell. Reaper was also grinning wildly, razor maw pulling into his ear. “ _Mi sol_.”

The look on Jack’s face reminded him of shattering glass. Reaper watched him shake his head violently as if he were trying to eject the thought from his brain. “You’re lying. You’re not him. It’s not possible.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Yes, I…” Jack stared up at Reaper, likely imagining his old face behind the mask. “I saw him buried. You can’t be him. Gabriel Reyes is dead. Has been for six years.”

 _You’re not wrong, Jack._ Reaper scoffed, a little surprised Jack had even attended his funeral. He’d risked being found out by the public, by his friends, risked having to explain himself, in what was likely his greatest moment of weakness, just to see his body put in the cold Earth? How touching.

“Gabriel Reyes is dead,” he repeated, trying to maintain the lie. “I’ve put flowers, lilies and marigolds, at his headstone every year, shared a drink too. He liked Long Island Iced Tea. It was his favorite.” Tears welled up in the corners of Jack’s eyes, and he wiped them away with his good arm, the other still hopelessly limp, damaged. “You,” he chuckled, shaking his head again. “I know what you are, mercenary, heard about some of the things you’ve done; your cruelties. Gabriel Reyes was many things,” Jack paused. “He was passionate, sometimes to a fault, and guarded almost all of the time, but he tried to do right by others, even if it didn’t always seem like it… Gabriel wasn’t like you.” Jack shot Reaper a glare, blue eyes daggers of ice. “He didn’t take any joy from suffering, and he wasn’t some smoke-spewing monster. Gabriel was…” Jack’s breath hitched in his throat. “I…” His voice dropped, leaving words left unsaid hanging in the air between them. Reaper didn’t try to fathom what they were, but deep down something stirred. He pushed it away.

 _“Mi sol_ ,” Reaper tested the words and felt nothing but hatred.

Jack shook his head. “You’re not him.” Tears came again, and Reaper could tell he was trying to hold them back. He nearly sobbed. It was pathetic. “You’re not.”

“Oh, Jack,” Reaper cooed, setting a talon beneath his chin, which must have been an insultingly soft gesture because Jack squeezed his eyes shut and more tears fell down his scarred cheeks. “I remember how you used to cry like this, so stressed out from being Strike Commander you’d simply come undone in my arms. So easily overwhelmed, and you’d seek me every time, and I’d drop everything for you, your needs greater than my own.” _Not anymore._ Reaper chuckled. “You used to love when I lulled you to sleep, hmm, how did that song go again? _Con mi último aliento te amaré cariño, eternamente–_ ”

“Stop!” Jack cried out. “Stop, I don’t want to hear anymore. Gabriel,” Jack said his name like an apology, “what happened to you?”

Reaper didn’t have an answer. He had no desire to explain himself to Jack, or show him anything that required explaining.

“I… I need to see you. Please.” Jack’s eyes were pleading.

Reaper pushed his shotgun against Jack’s forehead, forcing his head back into the wall. “I don’t think so.”

“Gabriel…”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But that’s _your damn name_.”

 _No._ Reaper had destroyed the man it had once belonged to. He was just another weakness, which, in that moment, he decided to make use of, knowing how much it would hurt Jack. He just hadn’t counted on how much he’d hurt himself. “And you think saying it now is going to change anything? That it will somehow repair the damage you’ve done, old man?” Reaper removed his boot and took Jack by the throat, lifting him to a standing position and then off his feet. Jack grabbed Reaper’s wrist, but the touch was gentle instead of the desperate force he’d expected. “You left me,” Reaper snarled, “left me to suffer alone, just like you abandoned me long before I…” He wanted to say “died”, but the word remained on the tip of his rotted tongue. “Long before Zürich.” Smoke flowed from the holes in his mask as he laughed. “And without you, look at what I’ve become.” A thing, a monster, an inhuman abomination; for some reason, he couldn’t say any of that to Jack. “I’m stronger than I’ve ever been. I never needed you in the first place, and it took me too long to realize it. You can’t fix me Jack. You can’t save me. It’s far too late for any of that.”

“Gabriel… I’m so sorry.” It was all Jack could say, and it hit Reaper harder than he could have imagined. Hearing those words was something a part of him wanted, needed, especially with the way Jack had said them, weight behind every syllable. It was enough to break through the haze of hate momentarily and really focus on the man before him, on his eyes and the tears falling from them, and how much he wanted to… Reaper squeezed all of his eyes shut. _No._ He didn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted to gouge them out.

“Sorry?” Reaper shook him. “Do you think that’s going to help you now Jack?” Reaper’s hold on Jack’s throat tightened. He wasn’t backing down. He’d resolved to end this. There was no going back. “Your apology changes _nothing_.”

Jack gasped for breath, but let go of Reaper’s wrist. When he placed a hand on his mask, Reaper almost dropped him, but instead relaxed his grip. Without thinking he lowered Jack so he could stand. Jack tried to slide his fingers along the back edge of the mask to reach deeper into his hood, to touch him, but Reaper sharply took his wrist and forced it away. Jack slid down the wall and sat, looking up at Reaper, blanketed by his looming shadow. Reaper aimed his shotgun at Jack.

“Please. Gabriel. Don’t.”

Reaper didn’t move.

“Take the mask off.” Jack said. “I want you to look me in the eyes when you pull that trigger.” He sobbed, and the great Jack Morrison crumbled before him. “Can you even do that?”

Reaper growled.

“Gabriel… I… I want you to be the last thing I see.” Jack’s voice shook.

A knot formed in Reaper’s chest and he grit his teeth. _Stop._ He kept his tone steady, “You don’t deserve it Morrison.”

To his surprise, Jack’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped, but his gaze never left Reaper. His words carried a solemn weight, “I know…” he frowned. “Is this really what you want?”

Reaper didn’t hesitate, couldn’t let himself think any more. “Yes.”

“Do you really hate me that much?” Jack’s voice was quiet, weak.

“Yes,” Reaper spoke with conviction, but for some reason, he didn’t feel that way. He should have, but he didn’t. “Goodbye Jack.” _When you’re gone I can finally wipe you from memory._

Reaper’s finger hovered over the trigger, and the instant he thought about squeezing it something inside him screamed. It wasn’t in his head; it was much deeper, rising from beneath the layers of distractions and repressions to halt his current course of action. The sound resonated through every nanite, permeated his very being, begging, pleading with him to not follow through, and Reaper wanted to resist, tried his damnedest to, but in the end he listened, feeling as if the scream would tear him apart if he didn’t comply.

Instead, he struck Jack upside the head with the stock of his shotgun, watching him crumple to the floor. A line of blood flowed from a fresh head wound and Reaper removed a gauntlet, setting two fingers against Jack’s neck. He felt Jack’s pulse against his skin.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

“Sombra,” he said.

“ _Hola_ , Sombra here, taking down governments and hacking snack machines since 2051.”

Reaper didn’t speak for a few seconds, focused on Jack. “I have a problem.”

“You mean you made a problem,” Sombra corrected.

“I need…” His voice trailed off, not used to having to ask.

“ _Ayuda_?”

“Yes. I need a safehouse, or his safehouse. It doesn’t matter.”

She chuckled. “Will both work?”

“Just get me someplace where I can deal with… all of this.”

Sombra was quiet for a moment, but didn’t ask what “all of this” entailed. He was sure she’d find out on her own, always did. “So you know, the target’s been moved. You two weren’t seen, other than by his security, and I’m managing information leaks as usual. I take it the mission is on hold for now?”

Reaper didn’t reply immediately. Was it? It shouldn’t be, but something had stopped him from putting a bullet through Jack’s skull, and thinking about it made him incredibly uneasy. Nothing made him uneasy anymore. He was Reaper for fuck’s sake, not Ga– he couldn’t finish the thought.

“For now,” he replied.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing, _Rey en Negro._ Nothing at all.”

“You’re going to piss me off Sombra.” Reaper said, picking Jack up off the floor in a fireman’s carry.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m so far away from you.” She chuckled. “Coordinates are in your e-mail. _Adios. Buena suerte._ ” The earpiece went dead.

He groaned, but silently thanked her. He was going to need it.

**END CHAPTER 7**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *unceremoniously punts the Old Soldiers comic out the window and watches it fall into a a pit* There we go. Where it belongs. So many missed opportunities there. Yep.
> 
> The usual thanks. Mel beta read again for me. It only took seven chapters for Jack to show up in current timeline. Hooray. Don't worry, there's much more with him to come now that he's actually in the story. Chapters 8 and 9 are both finished (also in Jack's POV), but I'm staggering content. <3
> 
> If you find errors, bug me on [Tumblr](http://kerrigore.tumblr.com).


	8. Are You Still in There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack wonders if there's anything left of the man he once knew in the shadow before him.

_Gabriel was…_

 

* * *

 

“When we met if you’d said I’d be falling in love with your white ass and fucking in a corn field beneath some cliché starry sky I would have punched you in the jaw.”

Jack scoffed. “I could barely get you to speak to me then, let alone get close enough for you to even be in range to do that,” he laughed, remembering when he’d met his new stern-faced roommate on the first day of the SEP. Funny how quickly things had changed.

His head rested against Gabriel’s bare chest, the rest of him lying on top of their discarded clothes, both satisfied. Crinkled tendrils of cornstalks swayed in a cool breeze, sparkling points of light shining brightly between their dark forms. Jack felt Gabriel shiver beneath him, and adjusted so his torso was mostly on top of him.

“I’m not that cold, _cariño._ ”

“Would you like me to move?”

A firm embrace cemented Gabriel’s position on the matter. He chuckled and Jack couldn’t help but smile, hearing the vibration in his partner’s chest, feeling him move as the chuckle became soft, warm laughter in a tone only reserved for Jack. He loved seeing Gabriel happy, loved it more than anything in the world.

“Thanks Jackie,” Gabriel said, carding his fingers through Jack’s messy hair.

“For what?” Jack would have lifted his head up to meet Gabriel’s gaze but he was far too comfortable.

“Suggesting we come here. It’s nice. Just you and me.” He felt Gabriel squeeze him. It was still the two of them in their room back on base, but Jack knew what he meant; them away from everything, finally truly alone in the middle of nowhere. It was the kind of peace men like them weren’t supposed to have, and yet, there they were, basking in it.

They’d been sent to Upstate New York on a mission to save the three kidnapped children of Senator Parsons, the woman responsible for getting the SEP its funding. They’d completed the task faster than anticipated, and as requested, quietly returned them to the Senator herself, who had insisted they stay for congratulatory drinks. They were to rendezvous at a nearby airstrip for extraction at 0600, but Jack had convinced Gabriel, quite easily in fact, a few bats of his baby blues were enough, to make a stop instead of being early.

“Glad I could get you to bend the rules a little.” Jack smirked.

“For you Jack, I’d snap them in half.” One of Gabriel’s arms let Jack go, the other still firmly around him. Gabriel fished for Jack’s hand, and when he found it their fingers entwined. “What'd I do to deserve you?”

“I could think of a few things.”

“Don’t get cute. You know what happens to me when you do that shit.”

Jack knew Gabriel was smiling, and nuzzled him lovingly, pushing his head under Gabriel’s chin. The wind rustled through the corn, and Jack focused on the sound of Gabriel’s heartbeat; strong against the chorus of crickets around them.

“Hey, Jack.” Gabriel said quietly. “This is real, right?”

At that, Jack sat up. Gabriel’s irises, the deepest brown of a tiger’s eye gem, facets shifting gracefully to a brilliant ochre in the right light, stared at him with worry. “Gabe,” Jack cupped a hand against his face and Gabriel leaned into it, eyelids closing as he exhaled, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid.”

“No, if it bothers you, then it’s definitely not stupid.” Jack was concerned, and it was rare he got to do this for Gabriel. Normally it was the other way around.

“You’re such a sap Jack.”

“C’mon Gabe.”

He sighed. “I’m just thinking is all, have been for a few nights. There aren’t many of us left in the program, and I know we’re pretty much in the clear at this point but, just, what if? Those words just hang in my thoughts and then it snowballs. I don’t know what comes after this Jack, but we’re military men, we didn’t pick a life that meshes well with what we’re doing now and…” he opened his eyes, his own hand going over Jack’s, “I’m afraid, and at the same time, I don’t fucking care. I want this. I want you. I want _us_. You do things to me Jackie no one else can, or ever has, and I don’t want to ever have to give you up, but know one day I might. Jack,” Gabriel clenched his teeth, “I…”       

“Gabe,” Jack leaned in, “I’m right here.” He understood, better than anyone, what Gabriel was feeling. “This is real. No matter what, we’ll find a way to make this work, even if the future separates us,” He pressed a hand flat against Gabriel’s chest, over his heart. “I’m always going to be here. I won’t leave you Gabe. I promise.”

It was something he couldn’t rightly say, but he did anyway. Circumstances beyond his control could take him away from Gabriel, or Gabriel away from him. They knew that, but they chose to find comfort in the lie.

“I love you, Jack. _Mi sol._ ”

“I love you too, Gabriel. _Te amo._ ”

When their lips met it was like coming home. They belonged together, and Jack told himself nothing was going to change that. He wouldn’t let it.

           

* * *

 

… _Gabriel was mine._  

 

* * *

 

Jack woke up in pain, though little of it was physical. He was sitting on a bed, shirtless, propped up against the wall; thin mattress, metal frame inside of a small room that bled the color of concrete. Across from him was an open door to a simple attached bathroom, the exit to the room adjacent to it. His gear was folded neatly – Marine Corps style, he noted – on a steel chair by the bed, visor on top, pulse rifle propped up against it. He still wore his gloves, likely an unnecessary hassle to remove, which Jack was thankful for at least. A spent nano-emitter for his biotic field was directly next to him, having closed all of his injuries aside from the shoulder Reaper destroyed, which didn’t appear to have been touched at all, still wet yet caked in layers of his own blood. Jack tried to move that arm, but found himself unable, limb numb.

_Reaper… Gabriel… What are you now? Is that even still you?_

Jack had known, deep down, who Reaper was. He’d be a fool not to recognize the other man, even beneath the mask and black leather that hid the one he missed the most no matter how many times he tried to accept that he was gone. _He’s not anymore, or maybe he still is…_

He’d lost many things, failed many people, and in part, Jack had become Soldier 76 to keep it all at arms-length. It felt good to not be attached anymore, to not be held to a higher power, and, for once, just be. It was something he’d never been able to do as Strike Commander. Back then, Jack had to play a role. He had to meet the needs of others constantly, be who they wanted: the shining face of Overwatch, the Golden Boy, the figurehead, _the puppet._ He’d gone along with it all, having believed in the good he was trying to do, but it wasn’t lost on him that the only time he truly felt unburdened was in those rare moments with Gabriel, just the two of them, no one else. Whether it had been in a broom closet or one of their rooms, it hadn’t mattered; they made time and it was something he cherished.

However, Jack’s main source of stability had blown up in his face when their relationship soured, and he couldn’t help but think he did nothing but make it worse. Jack had retreated inward, finding it harder and harder to leave his room every day. It took longer to psyche himself up for meetings, even longer for speeches or anything around people he didn’t know, and as he strode through the halls of the Swiss base doing his the best keeping up the façade of happiness, of the strength he was supposed to have as Strike Commander, he only felt like crying.

He’d tried to fix him and Gabriel, but it was an impossible task to devote that much energy to anything else, no matter how utterly important it was, when he couldn’t even deal with himself most of the time. He was constantly exhausted. Their relationship had turned to fighting, sex, fighting with sex, sex with fighting, or silence, and there was so much of the latter compared to everything else. Jack hated it. It had left him with his thoughts.

Gabriel became cold, overtaken by bitterness, and Jack, unable to face him, had hid. The times when he’d been able to work up the nerve to talk to Gabriel had usually ended in yelling until it became routine. There had been one time, the last Christmas party they’d had at Angela’s, where Jack thought they may finally reconcile, but that hope had been fleeting.

He didn’t know what happened to create Reaper, and in the back of his mind still tried to deny it was Gabriel. It was a logical thought, one of the few in Jack’s head. He’d held Gabriel’s corpse after he died, watched the family he’d abandoned bury Gabriel at Arlington. It would only make sense that Reaper just couldn’t be him. Jack had spent the past six years continuing what Gabriel had started before the explosion: trying to hunt down those who’d destroyed everything they’d built. It was Jack’s debt; the least he could do to try and make amends for his mistakes. But now, if Gabriel really was still alive, and, not only that, but really, truly loathed him, what _had_ it all been for?

He absentmindedly put a hand over his gut where Reaper had punctured his body with his monstrous talons, no longer bleeding, but irreversibly scarred. Gabriel would have never done that, and if Reaper was no longer the man he knew, the man he loved, then it would be up to Jack to end him. He couldn’t let Reaper hurt anyone else. Gabriel would have wanted it that way.

Jack nodded, trying to reassure himself, but thinking about actually killing Gabriel made him ill, and it was simple for him to pinpoint the reason: Reaper hadn’t killed him. He’d tried to, sure, but when it came down to actually pulling the trigger, he hadn’t been able to do it, and that was enough for Jack to have hope. But, maybe, he shouldn’t? Youthful optimism hadn’t gotten him anywhere; in fact, it had gotten a lot of people killed. Hope led to disaster, and he was too old and too tired to handle it all again. Yes, Jack was certain if he got his hopes up only to have them crushed, he’d break for good this time.

Sighing, he lifted his head, quickly picking up a strange sound: a bit like running sand, grains pushed against each other by a harsh wind. A blast of darkness came in through the doorway, and suddenly it was all around him. It became Reaper, who formed sitting on his knees, straddling Jack’s legs, all too close, too familiar. A gauntlet glove pressed against his good shoulder, pinning him to the wall. Jack’s heart skipped and he felt a sense of rising panic.

“Hey,” Jack started, but Reaper’s free hand clamped over his mouth.

“Shut up Morrison.” He said with a growl. “I need to concentrate. Don’t move.”

When Reaper removed his hand Jack went to speak again, but a shotgun materialized, barrel resting against Jack’s lips.

“You’re making me reconsider,” Reaper said, tone a warning.

Jack gave a nod, but was utterly uncomfortable, by both the fact Reaper, not Gabriel, was on top of him and that he had an almost irresistible urge to touch him, to try to comfort him, to figure out what was wrong, and knew he couldn’t do any of that. He couldn’t even try. His helplessness was soon drowned out by an intense feeling of worry followed closely behind by dread. He was in no condition or position to fight. What was Reaper going to do?

Reaper’s gun vanished, and his focus seemed to move entirely to Jack’s destroyed shoulder, one hand hovering over it while the other pressed flat against Jack’s chest, tips of his talons resting at the base of his neck. Jack’s eyes widened as fine particles emerged from Reaper’s fingers and flowed into his injury, swarming around shattered bone and raw flesh. Jack didn’t speak, didn’t dare, instead staring at the sight before him, horror shifting to fascination when he realized that, somehow, Reaper was helping him. His bones repaired themselves from the inside out, tendons creeping to connect new muscle, severed blood vessels becoming whole while the old blood of what had to have been hours before vanished.

Jack cried out suddenly. Nerves. God damn it there were the nerves. The pain, however, was only a jolt, fading quickly as layers of skin moved to cover the repairs, returning his arm to a functional state. Jack tested it, flexing a little.

“How did you…?” Jack said without thinking.

Reaper examined Jack’s shoulder with a thumb, prodding, but was careful enough not to draw blood. “You’d rather not know.” He phased in a cloud of smoke, flying backwards off the bed in a motion that looked like the beat of massive wings to sit near the end, his shadows forming into a god damn chair. He learned forward, arms coming to rest on his thighs. It was then Jack noticed all of the blood. Reaper’s mask was painted with spatter; some dry, likely his, and some fresh and glistening.

“Who did you kill?” Jack’s voice was accusing.

Reaper scoffed, but said nothing.

Jack fell to silence. _This can’t be Gabriel._ He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he titled his head back. Reaper had known so much about him though; things only Gabriel would, and Jack would be lying if he said didn’t hear his ex-lover’s voice under Reaper’s almost supernatural resonance. It was then that Gabriel’s voice, untainted, drifted into his thoughts, singing a song he’d written just for Jack, the one Reaper had started before. Jack decided to sing too, “ _Con mi último aliento te amaré cariño, eternamente, a tu lado, nunca a solas, nunca a solas_ …”

He took a breath before starting the next verse, but was interrupted, “You were always off key.”

Jack’s head snapped to look at Reaper. He hadn’t changed his position, though Jack was unable to focus on much but the blood. _Not Gabriel. He wouldn’t…_

They stared at each other in silence until Jack tested the waters again. He had so many things he wanted to ask, so much he needed to know, but he decided to start slow with the most pertinent question: “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Who says I won’t?”

“Then you went through a lot of effort for nothing.” Jack rubbed his shoulder. It felt normal, but he didn’t. Not in the least. He thought about lunging at Reaper, tackling him to the floor, and tearing his mask off, but, he couldn’t see that going well. Jack realized then how afraid he was, and his thoughts raced. _What if it’s you under there? What if this is who you are now? Can I live with that? Will I still lov–_ Yes. Of course he would. It was stupid of him to even question it. He was hopeless in that regard, always was; always would be. Jack’s chest knotted as his next thought pushed to the forefront. _Do you still love me, or has your hatred burned it all away?_

Jack almost couldn’t look at Reaper, who seemed to take notice, mask tilting to the side in an owl-like manner. Jack breathed deeply several times, slow and measured, trying to keep the thoughts at bay, the anxiety in check. _Be brave._ Gabriel’s voice. _You can do it Jack._ He needed to do this. Jack steeled himself, softening the hard gaze he’d adopted from years of fighting his own personal war. He somehow managed to keep his voice from shaking when the words finally spilled out, “Gabriel, are you still in there?”

 

* * *

 

Reaper didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know about any of it, except that he’d not only spared, but helped Jack Fucking Morrison when he’d had multiple opportunities to end it. Hell, he’d even gone out of his way to hunt someone in the still hours of the morning that he could use for _parts_ just to repair the injuries he himself had caused. Why? How could he? Jack left him to die again, to rot, to become inhuman, and yet he’d helped him as if none of that had mattered. As if he was still…

 _Get ahold of yourself_. _Get over there and fucking finish it._

But Reaper didn’t move from his chair. He didn’t move at all. He just stared at Jack, into Jack, the fire of his soul, that strange thing of shifting cobalt and ice blue, flickering with facets of pure white. Reaper wanted to tear it from his chest and devour it, but instead continued being deathly still.

Jack was looking at him expectantly. Reaper had nothing for him. A heavy sigh escaped Jack and he started talking again, “I miss him, even if he sometimes said the wrong things, or pushed too hard thinking he was helping. In the end, it didn’t matter, because Gabriel Reyes was confident and committed, and could have given his heart to anyone but chose to give it to me. And I tried to emulate to an extent, to project that same air when a lot of the time I just didn’t want to deal with anyone. I was internally hard on myself, and he knew, and it was impossibly hard on him. In his frustration, he’d sometimes forget how difficult just being normal was for me, and I couldn’t rightly blame him. If, he is listening, I need to tell him that I always wanted to be with him, even when it seemed like I didn’t. No matter how many times I told him I needed to be left alone, I meant by everyone else, not him, even if he was the one I was mad at.” Jack paused, likely hoping to get a reaction from Reaper, who again, kept still. He couldn’t show Jack how badly he was getting to him, how his insides seemed to literally twist, how the stale air in his dead lungs felt heavy, how flashes of memories, of Jack in his younger days, kept popping into his head. He hated this man, and yet that hatred was starting to feel unsettling, wrong.

When Jack seemed tired of waiting for a reply, he continued, “I wanted to go away, and I wanted him with me. Does he… do you remember the theater, back in the Omnic War?”

It surprised Reaper that he did. “What about it?” he said cautiously. What was he doing?

Jack’s posture straightened and his brow flicked upwards. After a moment of silence Jack obliged, “We’d just gotten into a fight. The team knew about our relationship then, wasn’t a secret, but they kept it quiet, professional. You were my CO, after all. Everyone was restless, having set up in an abandoned theater just waiting, orders having been “sit tight”. It was all quiet until Reinhardt found a bunch of costumes backstage, and came out dressed as a pirate with this goofy feathered hat.”

_Was singing a German sea shanty… echoed so well I’d heard it from the command area._

“Torbjörn, Ana, and Liao all joined in. I had retreated; was in one of my moods. You went to find me, and I told you off. It had been the stress. I was… an ass, took it out on you, and you got angry and left as I’d asked.”

_I heard you crying, and I walked away._

“You –”

“It was stupid of me to have left,” Reaper said. Jack’s words had triggered something. The whole memory was playing for him, and he spoke as if he needed to get rid of it. He did. He had to. It was for the better. “And I realized it later. Ana offered to go get you. She was always better at coaxing you into being social, I think.”

“Only sometimes,” Jack said. Reaper thought he saw a smile ghost his pale lips, “Her approach was different, but you knew me best, and I think I was nasty with you, when I was like that, because I knew I could get away with it, that you’d forgive me for it…”

_And I did._

“Ana had managed to bring me out into the theater. Torbjörn had gotten the lighting to work, and as soon as I was in view of it, everything dimmed, a single spotlight on the stage. The curtains opened, and, there you were, dressed in some ridiculous costume–”

“18th Century Spanish Admiral,” Reaper said, shifting in his seat. He leaned back into it, crossing his legs and folding his arms.

Jack chuckled. “And you looked gorgeous in it. You held your hand out to me as I cautiously walked up on stage. I took it, and you pulled me in.”

_I’m so sorry Jackie, I shouldn’t have left, or gotten angry with you, cariño. May I make it up to you with a dance?_

“And we danced.” Reaper said. “I don’t remember what the music was. Torbjörn had picked it out. The dwarf never had any taste when it came to anything other than weapons.”

Jack’s features were soft. “Gabriel.”

Reaper wanted to correct him, but didn’t, resuming his silence.

Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed. With a hand firmly on the edge, he walked down it to the end where he sat, only a few short feet away from Reaper. “Gabriel, I…” Jack put his hands to his mouth, hiding his lips with a fist.

“Don’t.”

“You’re not dead.”

“Yes, Jack, I am.” Reaper found it impossible to just look at Jack without also looking at his soul. “You should leave.”

“No,” Jack shook his head, hands falling to clutch the mattress. “I’ve done that enough. I’m not running.”

“But you do it so well,” Reaper’s said reflexively, tone malicious.

Jack nodded once, but it wasn’t in agreement. No, it was something Reaper had seen him do many times when he was Strike Commander, that little nod of self-reassurance, the last push he needed to force himself into something that made him hesitate. Jack looked at him, eyes cold, determined, and when he spoke it was an order, “Let me see you.”

It was a bad idea, a terrible idea, in fact. The mere mention of it sent every nanite into a frenzy, and he saw Jack jump a bit at his collective bristle, body bursting into a haze for just a second. He stood up. It would have been the best time for him to run, but Reaper found himself reaching for his mask.

           

* * *

 

Jack froze, entire body tensing, breath stalling. He wasn’t sure what he was going to see. Had he made the right choice in asking for this? He knew now, with certainty, that Reaper was Gabriel, _his_ Gabriel, and that should have been enough. But, it wasn’t.     

“You’re an idiot, Jack.” Reaper said, pulling his mask away, a trail of shadows fuming from the edges.

Gabriel was in the room with him now, but he also wasn’t. Jack could see the man beneath the monster, but the monster was powerful. The eyes Jack had woken up to on so many occasions were gone, replaced by sharp red irises set in black sclera, and there were more than two. Jack counted eight in total, the extras situated around Gabriel’s real ones, but they all were real, weren’t they? He watched them blink in tandem. Gabriel’s flesh was paler now, faded, more grey, and a lot of it was twisted in varying states of decay, some sloughing off his face to dissolve in wisps of smoke. The more solid portions seemed to shift, masses of black moving under the skin as more smoke poured out of the holes in his cheeks, through which Jack could see jagged, sharp teeth. His hair had gotten longer, curly and mottled with bits of grey like Jack remembered, though it blurred around the ends of each strand, a fine dark mist drifting from his head.

“Look at me Jack,” Gabriel’s voice cracked, “Is this what you wanted to see?”

“Oh Gabe…” Jack stood, no fear, no hesitation. He shook, but only because he wondered what Gabriel had gone through to end up in his current state. _Did he really suffer alone? Was he in pain? Is this really my fault?_ Jack pushed forward, removing his gloves, hand coming to rest against Gabriel’s cheek.

All of his eyes reacted, widening at the connection. “Jack…”

Jack placed his other hand on the opposite cheek, pressing his fingertips into the bones of Gabriel’s face. Gabriel was here, this was real. Jack smiled, and tears came. “I only wanted to see _you_.”  

 

* * *

  

He had to get away. It was too much. _Jack…_

Reaper’s shaking hand moved to his own face, a tear catching on the tip of a talon.

“It’s alright Gabe,” Jack’s voice was soft, breaking through a sob. “It’s going to be alright.”

No, no it wasn’t.

Jack moved closer, and slowly, testing Reaper’s current boundaries, touched their foreheads together, noses brushing. He didn’t seem to notice how badly Reaper was coming apart, how he was shifting in and out of this pathetic façade of a solid human being to exist as suffocating smoke. He was in so much pain. His chest hurt, burned, a fire igniting from deep within, and soon his only desire was to snuff it out. Jack’s soul glimmered before him, beckoning. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. But, _Dios_ , he needed it. He needed to make the pain go away, even if just for a short while.

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d pushed Jack away, grip firm around his throat, trying to draw Jack’s soul out through his chest with his other hand.

* * *

Gabriel was killing him, and there was little Jack could do about it.

Initially, he tried to fight against Gabriel’s hold, but the more he struggled the less energy he had. It was as if Gabriel was draining his life away.

“Gabe,” he managed, voice raspy, “please.” His arms hung limp at his sides.

As if to answer, Gabriel screamed; a horrible monstrous wail that caused Jack to cover his ears as he was dropped. He felt his strength return and Jack watched as Gabriel’s body violently ripped apart, shadows shearing in all directions, becoming what Jack could only describe as a swarm, and every member was screaming in unimaginable pain.

“Gabriel!” Jack reached out to him.

Like a wild bird trapped in a cage Gabriel struck the walls of the room, bursting into particles only to reform and do it again on the opposite wall.

“Gabe, stop! Tell me what’s wrong!” Jack pleaded, but his cries fell deaf and Gabriel flew out the door.

Jack followed after him, stumbling out of the room, searching desperately for any sign of his beloved, but he was nowhere. In his haste, he’d stepped on something, and Jack looked down to see it was a set of dog tags. He scooped them up, the name “Gabriel Reyes” engraved in their shining surface. A pathetic whimper escaped him. Jack clutched them to his chest, and dropped to his knees.

“Gabriel, please come back. What did I do?” His voice pleaded, “I just found you again. Don’t leave…”

Silence was Jack’s only reply. He was alone.

**END CHAPTER 8**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Overwatch Halloween comic a bunch of people noted how Jack's portrayal made him look like he might have social anxiety, and as someone who's had this wonderful mental illness his entire life (as well as GAD), well, this idea sort of called to me so, I present to you anxiety-ridden Jack Morrison in all of his glory. No, I will not be nice to him, or Gabe for that matter.
> 
> The first verse of Gabe's song for Jack - _Con mi último aliento, te amaré, cariño, eternamente, a tu lado, nunca a solas, nunca a solas_ = With my last breath I'll love you dear, eternally, by your side, never alone, never alone.
> 
> Mel beta read as per usual. Thanks to [thelightsofmischief](http://thelightsofmischief.tumblr.com/) for helping me with my Spanish translations.
> 
> Next chapter is strictly Jack's POV. Feedback is always appreciated. :)


	9. An Unexpected Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even soldiers need a little help.

_Get it together Jack._

His breathing was short, panicked, and he squeezed the dog tags so hard they dug into the flesh of his fingers and palm, threatening to break the skin. He could hear the oppressive sound of his heart pounding against his rib cage, trying to escape its confines.

_Everything is going to be fine._

He cried out a loud, pained sob, doubling over.

_Please be fine. Please be fine. Gabriel._

Jack’s forehead met the floor. He rocked back and forth, choking on his own cries, gasping for air, unable to see straight, unable to do anything. Nothing in his head was cohesive, just a blur of racing emotions, of chaos, and he’d barely heard it when the communicator in his visor chimed. It didn’t bring him to his senses, but it prompted him to get off the floor and struggle towards it. He held the visor up to his face, fumbling, nearly dropping it, and answered the com, though he said nothing, trying desperately to regain control over his breathing.

The sound of falling rain filled his ear, and with it came calm. Jack focused on it. His breathing slowed and he closed his eyes, imagining himself outside, droplets of water falling against his cheeks, cold touch dispelling all of his worries. He felt a warmth in his hand, fingers wrapped around his, pulling him back into reality, grounding him.

_“Are you doing better?” Gabriel asked._

_“Thanks for bringing me outside.” Jack nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen again Gabe. I…” Jack’s voice trailed when he felt Gabriel squeeze his hand._

_“It’s alright Jack. It’s not your fault, okay?”_

_Jack nodded, but he didn’t really believe it. Of course it was his fault. He wasn’t strong, not like Gabriel was._

_“If anyone should be sorry,” Gabriel continued, “it’s me.” Jack looked over at him, drops of rain trailing down his face, over his scars and chiseled cheeks, down the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t looking at Jack, but rather a puddle of mud bubbling up from the lawn. “I’m not always as patient with you as I should be. I get frustrated, and it’s not fair to you. I’ll do better.”_

_This time Jack squeezed Gabriel’s hand, which caused him to smile, and so did Jack. He appreciated, more than he could express, that Gabriel was trying. That’s all Jack could ask for. It made Jack want to try harder, and he would, for both of them._

Jack let out a steady sigh.

“Better?” an unfamiliar female voice said. She had an accent; sounded like she could be from Dorado.

“How did you know?” Jack asked.

“ _El_ _Rey en Negro_ told me.”

 _What? The King in Black?_ Was that Gabriel?

“He called me once in a blizzard, said many unkind things about it, so I figured I’d ask him what kind of weather he actually liked. He said rain. Someone he knew enjoyed it once.”

Jack spoke cautiously, “You know Gabriel?”

The voice on the other end let out a guffaw. “Even I’m not allowed to call him that _güero_ , what makes you think you can get away with it?”

“Because I’m…” Jack growled, flustered. “Who is this? How did you get access to this line?”

His question was returned by boisterous, modulated laughter, and he imagined it was close to what an Omnic being shoved into a microwave sounded like. “ _Soy Sombra,_ _el Dios en la máquina, que todo lo ve, todo lo sabe._ ”

Jack blinked. _The all-seeing, all-knowing, God in the machine._ Great. He was dealing with an egotist. Just what he needed.

“Not like your encryption was hard to break. Was interesting listening in on a séance with you and Sniper Grandma though. None of you are very good at staying dead, huh?”

Jack growled. Sombra, whoever she was, had been listening in on his calls. He wasn’t dealing with it. “I’m done talking to you. You’re wasting my time. I have more important things to do.”

Sombra snorted. “You couldn’t hang up on me if you tried, _Jack Morrison_ , and besides, you’re not going to find Reaper without my help.”

“How do you know who –”

“Go back out into the main room. In the corner. Look up and to the left.”

He did. There was a black bubble housing a security camera near the ceiling. The room had a small kitchen, shelves stocked with supplies, a computer built into the wall, and what looked like a very thick, secure door with a manual locking mechanism that had a very strange hole in it.

Sombra’s answer distracted him. “You’re in a Talon safe house,” she said. “Don’t worry,” she sounded dismissive, “they haven’t used this one for anything in years, so I’m the only person who gets to bear witness to your whole somber affair.” Jack tried to interrupt her, but she was too quick to quash him. “Anyway, regarding your identity,” he heard the crunch of food on the other end, “I figured out who you were the first time you showed up to meddle in mine and Reaper’s work. He’d mentioned how familiar you seemed when he fought you, so, since your face was covered, I went about trying to match your body up with people from Reaper’s past. Strike Commander Morrison’s was a 99.8 percent possibility according to my program. _Buenas probabilidades_ , even if you were supposedly dead,” her voice became a harsh whisper as she tacked, “really wanted a zombie,” onto the end of her sentence. “It also helped that you and the Strike Commander share that ridiculous little cowlick. Pretty much sealed my confidence on the matter.”

Jack spoke, unable to hide the disdain in his voice. He absentmindedly pressed his cowlick down with his fingertips only for it to pop back up again. “You’re with Talon.”

“Mmm, with is such a strong word. I live in their base, _si_ , use their equipment, run a lot of their ops, and steal their food, but I wouldn’t say I’m _with_ them. They’re more of a nasty convenience Reaper and I have been working on shaking up. Seems you have been too, Jack.”

“It’s Solder 76 now.”

“Uh huh, _sure_ it is. _Infierno,_ that outfit… what do you even need that many pouches for _güero_?”

Jack grumbled, drifting back into the other room. He wasn’t certain what to think of her, but he sure as shit didn’t trust her. She knew far too much. He sat on the bed, which creaked under his weight, and snapped his mask back on just so he didn’t have to hold it anymore. Staring at the dog tags in his hands, he let out a shaking breath.

“You can’t hide from me in the other room Jack, this thing has IR.”

“Would you go away,” he barked, gruff voice taking a commanding tone reminiscent of the one he’d use as Strike Commander. He hated it, made him remember all of the times he’d used it against Gabriel.

There was the sound of idle munching in his ear, then a brief moment of silence. “Do you really want to be left alone right now?”

No. He absolutely did not, but he wanted Gabriel, and certainly not Sombra’s company. However, he conceded, he had no idea where Gabriel had gone or how to locate him, and by the look of it, he hadn’t been in any state to be alone either...

“You said you could help me find him?” Jack cautioned.

“ _Si, puedo._ ”

“How?”

“His communication device has a tracker.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Does he know about that feature?”

“Or course. He’s the one who suggested I add it. I can’t advise him in combat situations if I don’t know his position, now can I?”

Jack stared at the dog tags. He wasn’t going to fail again. No more running. No more hiding. He nodded to himself and secured the tags around his neck where they belonged. “Where is he?”

“Getting a fix on his position. I have a trail, but he’s all over the place, blipping in and out. Thing doesn’t work when he’s not solid.”

He stood, walking over to his gear, and proceeded to redress. He noticed his flex armor had been mended, but not in the way his shoulder had; Jack saw tight, clean stitches where Reaper’s claws had torn through. His jacket had also been patched, sewn with the same care, blood removed. Jack held back tears. Now wasn’t the time for them. He had to be strong for Gabriel’s sake and for his own.

“This might take a bit, but you may as well head outside _soldado_. He’s far enough away from your position that you’ll have to do some walking.”

He nodded.

“I’ll get you on satellite once you’re out.”

Jack didn’t bother to ask whose satellite she’d be using, instead hurrying out of the safe house, eyeing the giant hole eaten out of the center of the main door. It was cut clean as if done by a laser. He didn’t know the extent of Gabriel’s abilities, but it didn’t take much for Jack to imagine what he could do to a body, and there were plenty of innocent ones in the streets of Dorado. He ventured up the stairs, finding another hole in the door at the top.

“Oh, oh this is good.”

“What?” Jack said, entering into a meat plant. The door to the safe house was at the back, and would have been obscured by hanging carcasses if there were any left. A whole row, straight down the line, were gone, including the hooks, leaving only partial links of chains dangling from the ceiling.

“There are reports of a screaming shadow interrupting the festivities of _Festival de la Luz_ popping up all over the Internet, as well as video. Well, there goes my free time,” she scoffed, “going to take forever to clean this mess up.”

Jack clutched his pulse rifle. “I don’t even know what I did… Has he hurt anyone?”

“ _No sé_. Haven’t heard anything yet.” A map of Dorado popped up on the inside of his visor. There was a flashing red dot steadily moving out of the city. “Go get him.”

He didn’t need to be told. It was late morning, and Jack kept mostly to the shadows, to paths less traveled. He’d been in Dorado for a couple of weeks now, having recently dealt with some members of _Los Muertos._ Cleaning up the streets while investigating leads was a good use of his time, already doing more than his former self would have been able to do, as he was no longer tied down by endless procedures and regulations. He felt comfortable as Soldier 76. He was vulnerable as Jack, and he found it funny that the same was true with Gabriel, that Reaper seemed to be just a way to hide how broken he was inside. It wasn’t actually funny, not really, but it made him feel lighter somehow, knowing that even after so many years there was still something that connected them, even if it was horrible.

“Sombra.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for the rain,” Jack said, breaking the silence. He never felt like he thanked Gabriel enough for things like that when they were together, and figured he’d get a head start by thanking his... “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot, _güero_.”

“What is Gabriel to you?” Jack wasn’t sure if he should have, but he wondered where she and Gabriel stood.

Sombra didn’t answer him immediately. Her voice, for the first time, sounded serious, “ _Él_ _es mi amigo,_ my partner in crime _._ If he falls, so do I, and right now he’s fallen into a place I cannot go, so, you’ll have to.” Her tone picked up, rife with that almost overbearing cheer. It kind of reminded him of Lena, and he found himself missing the old days, if only just briefly. “Besides, he’s completely useless like this. You’ve fucked up a damn good mercenary Jack Morrison and you’re sure as hell going to fix it.”

Jack let himself laugh a little bit. Sombra did too.

“You two were good together, you know,” she said.

“Excuse me?” He couldn’t imagine the old Reaper getting sentimental.

Sombra replied as if she’d known his train of thought. “ _El_ _Rey en Negro_ never talked about his past, unless it was about who he planned on killing, which was utterly delightful, by the way, but, I’ve been through the Overwatch Archives more than enough times to have formed an opinion on your relationship, amongst other things.”

He wasn’t surprised Talon had an archive on Overwatch. He’d discovered much about their involvement in the fall a few years back, having unmasked a former member of Blackwatch wearing Talon colors and managed to get his ego to talk before he bled out from his pulse rifle wounds. He’d only recently learned the corruption went all the way to the UN, and regretted every day for believing them instead of Gabriel like he should have. He’d been so stupid, blind even, and it had made Gabriel hate him. The question returned: _Does he still love me?_ Jack didn’t know.

“They’re pretty extensive,” Sombra said. “There’s even a nice bloated file on the two of you.”

“I’d like to get my hands on it sometime,” he cleared his throat, catching himself, “the whole thing, not just that part.”

“ _Tal vez_. _He_ hasn’t even seen it yet, though when I brought it up he had no interest in it. Best to stay buried, he’d said. I don’t quite agree.” She let out a small cackle. “There are some amusing candid shots in here. Like the one of you two at the beach in booty shor–”

“Sombra. The dot vanished.”

“Did it? Oh, so it did. Let me just…” It returned, but was unblinking, unmoving. “There, last known location.” It was about half a click east of his position in a section of Dorado he hadn’t traveled to, close to the forest.

“What’s out that way?”

“A cemetery, not like the nice new one for all of the recent dead people in the heart of the city, but something old, like you, kind of decrepit, that’s been around for way too long but no one wants to disturb the bodies to get rid of it. LumériCo actually tried once. Did not go well for them,” she chuckled, “Ah, you should see it on _Dia de Los Muertos_ though. The whole place shines.”

“Where is Gabriel.”

“By the look of it I think he’s in a mausoleum.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“ _Si._ I’m wearing my serious face Jack.”

“Sombra,” he groaned. How did Gabriel put up with this? “I have no idea what you even look like.”

A calavera appeared inside of his visor. Shortly after, two thick horizontal eyebrows were drawn onto its eyes in hastily scribbled purple. Jack deadpanned. “Why are you and Gabriel friends?”

Sombra just laughed.

He sighed, “Alright, make this damn thing go away so I can figure out where I’m going.” The calavera vanished at his command and Jack made his way to the cemetery, running as fast as he could. He was older, sure, _not decrepit_ , but he had no issues making the distance without fatiguing. It was barely even a jog for him really.

The cemetery was as run down as Sombra had described; a cobblestone fence surrounded what he could see of it, sections missing in some places, grossly overgrown in others. He walked through an archway with words Jack translated to “Blessed are the Souls Who Rest Here,” sculpted in twisted wrought iron. Headstones were cracked and weather-beaten; the ones with statues seemed to have pieces missing: arms, fingers, and eyeless heads resting atop their plots. Jack noticed there were several mausoleums, and headed for the one furthest away as indicated by the little red dot, the beacon to finding Gabriel.

Stairs led to the entrance between moss-stained columns, an ornately carved brass door lay on the marble floor, the other completely missing, and he wasn’t sure if that had been Gabriel’s doing or the passage of time. The mausoleum had two floors, and Jack made quick work of scanning the top, not finding any sign of him. When Jack crept downstairs he noticed immediately that something was amiss. There were three tombs spaced evenly in the chamber, and the third one was missing its cover, having been forced off and slammed against the wall, denting the stonework above where it lay in pieces.

Jack took a deep breath and tried to rein in his imagination, which was a hell of a task as it was doing a spectacular job bombarding him with a thousand terrible scenarios regarding Gabriel’s state of being. _Enough. I don’t need this right now._ He shook his head and walked over to the open tomb, fingers curling over the edge as he peered inside.

 _Thank you,_ he thought to whomever, whatever was listening. “Gabriel.”

He received no response.

Gabriel lay on his side still wrapped in his Reaper garb. He appeared to be sleeping, though Jack couldn’t rightly tell as he wasn’t breathing at all, which would have worried him except Gabriel was periodically making small, disturbed growls and his claws twitched. His mask was gone, as was his face, at least the face he’d seen earlier. Currently, it existed as a near formless mass of darkness, and when Jack tried to touch it, it moved liked a dense fog and his finger sunk into where Gabriel’s cheek should be. He drew back, cautiously slipping his hands beneath Gabriel’s body, but when he tried to lift him he went right through, grasping at strands of smoke instead.

“Gabriel,” he said, louder. “Why are you like this…I don’t know what’s wrong.” He felt his breathing become more rapid and the negative thoughts that came to him far too easily bounced against the inside of his skull. _No. I will not do this again._

“You alright there _güero?_ ”

“Yeah,” he sucked in a deep breath through his nose. “I’m fine.” He was never a very good liar.

“Found him then? Satellite’s IR is only picking up your body heat.”

Before, Jack had been so emotional over just seeing Gabriel again that it hadn’t occurred to him if Gabriel’s skin had any warmth or not, and he wracked his brain, trying to remember. There were a lot of things, actually, he didn’t know about him, and it bothered Jack immensely. Six years and so much had changed. “Setting three,” Jack said, activating his visor’s infrared mode. Gabriel was cold. “Yeah, I did, but I’m not getting anything. Does infrared ever pick him up?”

“All the time. I make him carry a jammer, which I’d shut off before this little chase. He’s a furnace, usually, looks like a forest fire when he’s solid, and a swarm of burning bees when he’s not.”

“He’s just lying here in an open tomb. I can’t move him at all, just… slips through my fingers. He looks like he’s asleep but--”

“ _No, no duerme._ I don’t know what happened, but he’s probably in some sort of stasis, though I wasn’t aware he could even do that, and I’ve talked to all of them before...” _Them?_ The way Sombra spoke made her sound like she should know. “May as well get comfy Jack, you might be waiting for a while.”

“Where are you going?”

“If you need me, say my name, otherwise, I have shows to catch up on, and a media mess to contain. _Adios, Chico de Oro.”_

“Don’t call me that,” he said with a growl, but Sombra left him before he got the words out.

Jack stared into the tomb, at Gabriel, checking hopefully to see if anything had changed. _Still the same._ He let himself slide down the tomb to sit on the floor, resting the back of his head against the edge. He didn’t know how long he would have to sit there, surrounded by dust and old bones, but he’d decided it didn’t matter. He would be there when Gabriel woke up, if he did, no matter how long it took. He wasn’t going to leave, not again.

  **END CHAPTER 9**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it kind of awesome how close I got to canon Sombra with my interpretation (and I adore canon Sombra). I'm going to continue to write the version I've set up in this fic. I also think Jack's a pretty intelligent dude and would have finally gotten around to gaining language fluency now that he's not under so much pressure. Poor Jack.
> 
> I'm several chapters ahead, and I'm probably going to try to post something new every Wednesday.
> 
> The usual thanks.


	10. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper has a chat with someone he thought he'd killed.

Dark silhouettes basked in moonlight; the rough outlines of evergreens shifting with the touch of a steady breeze. Reaper’s boots crushed the stale underbrush as he walked, focused on an orange glow that peeked through the skeletons of the forest. The edges of his vision blurred, tunneling on that light, and his physical pain was all but a distant memory. He didn’t command his legs to move, yet they did anyway, and as the trees became sparse and the ground was replaced by rock he found himself near a precipice. He peered out, and what should have been a forest below was just an endless void of black, unsettling and wholly unnatural.

He turned towards the light. A camp was set up near the cliff, a roaring fire the centerpiece. Around it were the bodies of sleeping soldiers, none of which Reaper was able to recognize; their faces were nothing but masses of shadows.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d manage to slither your way here,” a voice said, chuckling from the other side of the fire.

Reaper’s eyes widened behind his mask, the outline of his form blurring as darkness poured off him like steam, dissipating into the surrounding night.

The man laughed, taking a long drag of a cigarette, tendrils of smoke passing over his scarred face, which was otherwise unmarred. Warm colors danced against brown skin, highlighting his strong cheekbones and intensely dark eyes. “Come here _pendejo_ ,” he smirked and a single brow lifted, brushing the edge of the beanie he had pulled over his head, “Don’t tell me the hardened mercenary is hesitant?”  

“I killed you.” Reaper said flatly, remaining where he stood, flexing his fingers nervously, dumbfounded by what he was seeing. Sitting on a dome-shaped rock in full combat fatigues was Gabriel Reyes. He was in his late twenties, mustache and goatee a bit on the shaggy side if Reaper had to criticize, but otherwise he looked good, he looked… alive and Reaper felt something inside of him just drop at that thought.

“Oh, I bet you’d like that.” Gabriel said. “Guess in our advanced age you got careless,” he motioned with his cigarette to a sleeping blonde-haired Jack Morrison, who was curled up against the rock near Gabriel’s feet cocooned in two blankets. “I’m not the only one you didn’t kill.”

“I could fix that.” Reaper’s shotguns appeared in his hands.

Gabriel shook his head, patting his own, which were beside him. “Do you really think that’s the best course of action right now?”

Reaper wanted to, he really did, but he had no understanding of what was going on, of why he was suddenly talking to the ghost of his former self, and had even less of an idea of what it would mean to try and kill him. Was he in another plane of existence? Was this a hallucination, all in his head? Or, was it something else entirely? He growled, defeated, and let his shotguns fizzle for the time being.

“ _Siéntate._ ”

Reaper floated over to Gabriel, reluctantly sitting beside him on the rock, though he kept a few feet of distance between them.

“I’d offer you one,” Gabriel held out his cigarette between two fingers, “but you don’t seem to need it.”

Smoke lazily poured from the holes of Reaper’s mask, from his shoulders, from the tips of his claws, which he drummed against the rock.

“What is it we’re calling ourselves now?”

“Reaper.”

“Ah, fitting I guess, though last time I checked it wasn’t Halloween, and I have an internal clock for that sort of thing.”

Reaper held back the urge to strangle Gabriel. There was nothing wrong with his outfit. His old self had poor taste. “What is this? Why am I talking to you?”

“Not sure, but I can guess,” Gabriel looked at Reaper, his expression hard, unamused. “You got greedy; used to feeding on whatever or whoever you wanted and it finally caught up to you.”

“It’s necessary.”

“I know, but that little taste of Jack’s soul wasn’t. All of the good, innocent people we used to want to protect weren’t either.” He scoffed and waggled his cigarette. “You remember those movies we used to watch, the shitty action ones where some _idiota_ decides to press the big red button or whatever, and even though it’s obviously a terrible idea he can’t resist and does it anyway?”

Reaper didn’t reply, mostly because he recalled the reference and didn’t want to give his ghost more fodder.

“That’s you.” Gabriel pointed at him. “Don’t think just because you tried to bury me that I haven’t been watching from beneath the dirt, _cabrón_. You’ve had choices. You just keep making the wrong ones.”

“You’re one to talk,” Reaper said with a growl, facing Gabriel. “Lecturing me on killing when you’ve taken more than your fair share of,” his next words were rife with mockery, “‘people who didn’t deserve it’, just to complete a mission.”

“Collateral was sometimes part of the job,” he said matter-of-factly, a coldness seeping into his words as if he were trying to distance himself from their reality. Reaper knew that tactic never really worked. “There’s no sense of accomplishment in any of that, no justice, and I felt for every one of them. Didn’t show it to the world, didn’t need to. I had Jack,” his voice became solemn, “my reminder that everything I did was worth it somehow…”    

“Had,” Reaper emphasized.

“Yeah… I made a lot of mistakes. Tried to protect him when I probably shouldn’t have, made shit worse, ended up destroying each other, but you know that, you’ve held onto that and strangle yourself by it every second you continue to exist.” Gabriel took a long drag, shooting Reaper a calculated glare. “However, you seem to have forgotten what it meant to care for another person as much as we did for Jack. You’d think, with all of the little bits of humanity you’ve consumed over the years, some compassion would have stuck around.”

“I’m not you.”

“No shit. I wouldn’t have hurt Jack like that, even after everything he did.”

Reaper shook his head, “Hypocrite.” He remembered the Zurich explosion. How he and Jack had fought with not only fists but weapons. They’d shot at each other, driven by anger towards the other and the circumstances that had brought them to that point. The lack of control they’d had pushed them towards that end just as much as their personal bickering. But, no, he supposed, that wasn’t what Gabriel was talking about was it? Reaper glanced down at his talons, and swore he could still see them coated with Jack’s blood, hearing the echo of himself cackling.

“I’m not cruel.” Gabriel said knowingly.

With that, Reaper couldn’t argue.

“I think what you did broke us,” Gabriel continued. “Damaged our soul.” Gabriel shifted, bringing a knee to his chest and casually rested his forearm against it.

“Where are we?”

“Way back in a corner of your mind, in a place you’d hidden away, hoping to never see again.”

“So I’m… dreaming?” No, that couldn’t be right. Reaper didn’t sleep, and he certainly didn’t dream.

“Nah, I’m just talking, and you’re finally listening. Keep it up and maybe we’ll get somewhere.” He motioned to the sleeping Jack. “How much of him do you really remember?”

_Everything._ Tasting that small bit of Jack’s soul had opened flood gates in Reaper’s mind and even the layers of memories belonging to others couldn’t save him from what he’d experienced. Jack’s smile, Jack’s laugh, Jack’s big stupid eyes, all of it had assaulted him, leaving him vulnerable to the pain it brought, knowing how much he’d hurt Jack, and how much Jack had hurt him. He’d wanted to avoid it so badly, and in realizing he couldn’t Reaper felt his form shift. Instead of sublimating, he melted into smoke. “Jack…” Reaper said softly, his voice a rumble.

Gabriel chuckled. “I guess I’m still in there after all.”

“Don’t get so smug about it,” Reaper snapped.

He scoffed. “You’re a smoke puff.  I’m allowed to gloat.” Gabriel tapped his cigarette against the side of his boot, knocking away ash. “How long’s it been since you’ve seen your own face, and I don’t mean my gorgeous mug,” he stroked his beard briefly, “I mean the one you keep hidden under that death shroud.”

“There’s nothing to look at.”

“Sure there is. Jack seemed to think so.”

At that Reaper drifted over to Gabriel, and tried to envelope him, not seeking to kill him, yet, but instead simply seeking his presence. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind. He was silent for a bit as he finished off his smoke, flicking the butt behind him into the abyss as he stared ahead at the night sky. Reaper stared too.

“Love it out here. Didn’t always. When we were kids we used to have a fear of the dark, as hilarious as that is now.” Gabriel said.

Reaper let out a small huff. “Rib-splitting.”

“We thought when the lights went out the darkness would come alive, would creep into our bed, and smother us to death, so _mamá_ got us a nightlight. She told us it would chase away the darkness, and when we asked why do you remember what she said?”

Reaper did not.

“ _Mijo_ , darkness does not fear light simply because it exists. Darkness fears light because light reveals the darkness for what it truly is, and the darkness is afraid of itself. And you are; more than you care to admit, but, it’s not just that, is it?” Gabriel paused. Reaper briefly considered if he’d allow him to continue, smoke coiling around Gabriel’s form, some around his throat. Gabriel took notice, but pressed on, undeterred as Reaper had expected. _Confident bastard._ “Deep down, it’s not so much the monster you can’t stand,” he brought a hand to the coil at his throat, brushing his fingers through it, eyeing the thick trail of smoke that followed, “it’s the fact it never truly destroyed your humanity, as much as you wanted it to, because that would have made everything easy. Wouldn’t it have been nice to be truly remorseless, to just give up every facet of who you were, to never feel accountable for what you’ve done? It would have hurt so much less.”

“Have you always been this insufferable?” Reaper said with a snarl, though Gabriel was right. He hated himself for what he was, and even more for what he wasn’t. Never human, never again, stuck somewhere in between the monster and the man, unable to be just one or the other. His body started to writhe, coils unwound, and tentacles batted at Gabriel’s body in frustration.

Gabriel quirked a brow as one struck his armored shoulder plate. “You know, I used to ask that question to Jack but now I think you’re a bit more fitting of it, huh?”

“Shut up.” Reaper withdrew into himself, becoming a cloud beside Gabriel. He shuddered and after a long pause said, “…I’m so fucked up.”

“Probably why I’m here,” Gabriel sighed. “You need to see Jack,” his gaze briefly shifted to the one sleeping below him, “the real one.”

“I can’t.”

“ _Mierda_.”

“I don’t want him to see me,” Reaper said.

“He already did.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Gabriel frowned. “Jack’s not going to shun you. You saw the look on his face; he was,” his frown became a smile, “so happy to see you. He didn’t give a shit what you looked like. Fuck, if there’s anyone still out there who’s going to accept you, fucked up face and all, Reaper, it’s Jack Morrison. He even looked at you and said our name, _your name_.”

“Gabriel,” Reaper acknowledged, the desire to fight that reality having fled.

“That’s right. Not monster, not creature, not demon, or beast, just Gabriel. That’s who Jack saw.”

“He only saw who he wanted to see. He has no idea what I am, what I’ve done. Jack doesn’t know a damn thing about who I’ve devoured, how many souls I’ve taken just to feed my machines, fuck, he doesn’t even know I’m made of machines, or that souls actually exist.” Reaper found himself laughing. “That will change things, I’m sure.”  

“Will it though?” Gabriel muttered.

“Why wouldn’t it? Neither of us are the same man we were six years ago, or even before that.” _I’m irredeemable now._

“Even so, some things don’t change. I bet he’s waiting for you.”

 “Or he ran,” Reaper said flatly, his next words sounding more urgent. “What if he did?”

“Then fucking chase him,” Gabriel’s voice rose, but sunk quickly as he clenched his teeth, shaking his head, “like we should have done in the first place.”

“He left me. I didn’t have the option to walk away, and he should pay for it.”

“Something tells me he has been…,” Gabriel sighed. “And what is this selfish shit you keep endlessly spouting? Did death really make us that petty?”

“You want to trade?”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

Reaper chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to either.”

Gabriel pinched his brow. “My advice still stands. It’s up to you and him to work this out, and I hope you will, but we both know if you really wanted him dead, he would be, as would I.”

“Speaking of…” Reaper expanded, his smoke taking a solid form again as he came to sit beside himself. He turned his head to glare at Gabriel, red eyes flashing through his mask so they could be seen, evidence of his anger undeniable. Reaper had no appreciation for meddling, even if it had worked in his favor. “Were you what stopped me from pulling the trigger?”

Gabriel’s grin was telling. “I might have had something to do with it, yeah. One of us has to be the smart one. Sure as shit isn’t you.”

“Fuck you.”

Gabriel laughed, “What do you know, our default response whenever we’re forced to deal with something we don’t like. Real threatening. Seethe all you want,” he waved a hand dismissively, “might keep the fire from burning out.” Gabriel continued before Reaper could retort. “Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed our quality time, your door is here, and you’ve got two options.”

“Excuse me? What door?”

Gabriel motioned with a nod in the direction where Reaper had entered the campsite. A large black door loomed, single silver knob adorning its smooth wooden surface. Reaper blinked. _Where the fuck did that come from?_

“Two options,” Gabriel repeated. Reaper turned back to him and he was holding up two fingers. “You can walk through there, head back to the real world, and do this alone, or,” Gabriel offered a hand, “we can do it together.”

Reaper’s head moved to look at Gabriel’s hand, and then at the door.

“It’s up to you.”

He shifted, armored boot brushing Jack, who didn’t wake. Reaper wondered what the real Jack was doing. Did he really leave him again? Was he so terrified of Reaper’s state that he decided not to deal with it? Did he go find a desk to hide under like he’d done in his office so many times before? Did Jack… panic? Reaper put a hand to his mask as if he was trying to cover his mouth.

“You okay?”

“What if he… what if he broke down because of me? And I…I left him when he needed me?” He’d done it so many times in anger back when he was still Gabriel. Not intentionally, well, maybe sometimes out of spite, which was utterly, horribly wrong of him, but most of the time he’d been too clouded to even realize what he was doing to Jack until it was too late to fix it. Reaper shook his head and buried his mask in his hands. He groaned. “Why should I even care? He deserves it, doesn’t he? He. Left. Me. I shouldn’t be feeling bad about any of this.”

Reaper expected to be chastised again, but instead he felt a hand fall on his shoulder and looked over to see Gabriel offering him a reassuring smile. “But, you do, and I think you’ve fought against that more than anything else. You are still capable of empathy, even if you don’t think so.”

“I’m…”

“You’re what?” Gabriel asked.

“I’m afraid,” Reaper admitted, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Yeah. We both are. Have been since we crawled out of our own grave, but hey,” Gabriel patted his shoulder, “death couldn’t stop us, so why should this?”

Again, he was right.

“Fine,” Reaper conceded, “we’ll do it your way.”

Gabriel chuckled and stood. He then extended his hand. Reaper snatched it as he got to his feet, talons digging into Gabriel’s flesh. Reaper gave one final look at Jack.

“Ready, asshole?” Gabriel asked.

“You’re still insufferable,” Reaper said.

Gabriel shrugged. “I can live with that, but can you live with me?”

“I’ll try.”

“Good, because I’m not coming back to this place,” Gabriel laughed, motioning with a thumb. “You’re stuck with me.”

Reaper nodded. “I’ll get used to it.” _Jack’s waiting._ “What if he… what if this goes like last time? What if we destroy each other again?”

“I know you’ve been very busy brooding and likely didn’t give it any thought but, maybe, try something novel, revolutionary even: _talk to him_.”

“You sound like Ana.”

“Not a bad thing,” Gabriel said as they started to walk. “No guns either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Reaper said.

“You’re an awful liar.”

As they approached the knob turned on its own volition and the door opened, a light that would have been blinding under normal circumstances washing over them, but Reaper stared into it, unfazed. Gabriel was beside him, the unknown in front of him, and together, they stepped through to face it or fall.

**END CHAPTER 10**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to post this chapter for a long time. It's been done (mostly) since I published Chapter 2. It was a lot of fun to write. I don't buy into the whole "Gabriel was a victim of mind control/brainwashing" theories to become Reaper (at least not in the way Widowmaker was). If his condition is actually as utterly painful as I think it is (and Jack actually did betray him in some way), then a lot of it is probably the product of his own mind, so I felt like exploring that here.
> 
> Mel beta read as usual. Thanks to her and to everyone who's been reading this and giving feedback on it thus far. It's much appreciated.


	11. What I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You wanted to know more about me Jack, well, this is me now."

Reaper sat up, not even a chuckle escaping his throat when he realized he was in a mausoleum, having fallen out of reality in an open tomb. No, his normally dry, morbid humor had left him for the time being, replaced with something else entirely. He peered over the edge of the stone at a sleeping Soldier 76: peaceful, chest rising and falling with every relaxed breath, hands on the pulse rifle across his lap, so _vulnerable_ , and had it been any other time Reaper would have no doubt taken advantage of the opportunity.

“Oh, _bueno,_ you’re not dead…er.” Sombra’s voice poured through his communicator. “ _Qué pasó?_ ”

“I don’t know,” Reaper replied. “At least not well enough to explain it.”

“Hmm, well, next time you come back to base I’ll ask your nanites, I’m sure they’ll have a few things to say. So,” she paused, “are you going to kill him?” Sombra spoke with no emotion, when normally that kind of question had, at the very least, an undertone of devious delight.

Reaper stepped out of the tomb and knelt beside the Soldier, beside Jack. “How long was I out?”

“Twenty two hours, eight minutes, thirty-nine seconds, and as usual I cleaned up your mess in record time.”

“He’s been here for that long?”

“ _Sí._ ”

“The entire time?”

“ _Sí._ ”

“Idiot.” Reaper softly placed a hand on Jack’s head. The other man didn’t stir. Jack had always been complicated, oftentimes frustratingly so. He’d either try to escape his problems completely or run headlong into them depending on how he was feeling. In the early days, _the better days_ , Reaper mused, Jack would be waiting for him in his quarters, which had otherwise been empty for the time he’d been away on a mission. He’d be in Reaper’s bed, tangled in his sheets, face buried in his pillow trying to catch traces of a scent having already faded into longing. It was a welcome sight, but a worrying one when Reaper would find out Jack had been in there for days, not having eaten a damn thing, even if his position as Strike Commander would force him leave, giving him ample opportunity. The fool never did take care of himself when he was worried, and Reaper realized he likely would have stayed there, back propped up against the tomb waiting for him to wake up, even if he never did.

“Reaper?”

“What.”

“You never did give me an answer.”

“That’s because I don’t have one.”

Sombra was silent for a moment, but Reaper swore he could hear her grinning, a thought confirmed by her obnoxiously playful tone when she did speak. “You have a few days of free time before König will want you working on his op, though… I may be able to pull a few favors and get someone else to handle it, if it comes to that. I have eyes on our target, so let me know when you want to resume.”

“Will do.”

“I’ll be around, if you need me, _Rey en Negro._ Enjoy sorting out ‘all of this’.” He heard Sombra laugh, and his com shut off. His attention had never left Jack, and he ran his talons softly through his snow-white hair.

 

* * *

 

When Jack awoke this time he wasn’t alone. He was back in the Talon safe house, visorless, in the bed he’d been on before. Warmth surrounded him, a weight atop his head, and as he blinked to shake off sleep he saw a pair of armored boots in his field of vision, realizing then he was lying on someone’s legs, on _Reaper’s_ legs. Jack’s heart skipped. He immediately became restless. This was Reaper, not Gabriel. Reaper, not Gabriel. Reaper, not…

“Gabriel?” he said cautiously. He felt Reaper’s talons gently card through his hair. _Is it really you?_

"Hello, Jack.” Reaper said with a strange softness to his tone that Jack hadn’t expected, bringing him back to times spent in Gabriel’s arms, to affectionate Spanish whispered between kisses, to the intimate touches only meant for Jack.

He wanted to cry, but held back, though his voice shook, giving away his desire, “Gabriel…”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Gabriel said, tone questioning.

Jack sat up, and without thought threw his arms around Gabriel, sitting on his lap, chin resting on his shoulder. The gesture wasn’t immediately returned, but slowly, as if he were hesitant, Gabriel embraced Jack, head lowering to rest beside his. Jack heard something that sounded like a sigh and Gabriel’s hold tightened. Jack had so many things he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask, but was afraid of ruining this, afraid Gabriel would run away again, so he stayed silent.

How long they remained like that Jack couldn’t say, but Gabriel was the first to speak, “When was the last time you ate?”

Jack pulled back. Gabriel was wearing his mask, something Jack hadn’t cared to notice before, and as much as it bothered him, it wasn’t at the forefront of things needing to be addressed. It didn’t help that he was sort of thrown off by Gabriel’s question. It had been a while since anyone had bothered to ask about his well-being like that, and he felt he’d been doing alright, even if he was mostly living like an alley cat. Jack was tempted to tell Gabriel he was fine, but he was sure his stomach would give him away. It had been a few days.

He cleared his throat, turning his head away slightly, unable to meet the gaze beneath the mask, “Not recently.”

Jack could feel Gabriel’s glare, but instead of scolding him as he used to, Gabriel let go and flew through him in a burst of smoke, heading out into the main room. His mind screamed, told him Gabriel had left again, but Jack fought to dispel the notion, to keep his irrational self from taking over. He soon heard heavy footfalls and Gabriel walked back in carrying a plate topped with Mexican rice and chicken in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He shoved them into Jack’s hands when he got near the bed, sitting down on the edge after he’d taken them.

“Eat.” Gabriel’s command was non-negotiable and Jack wasn’t going to argue.

“Thank you,” Jack said between bites, briefly wondering if Gabriel had cooked this for him. Considering the patch job to his clothing earlier Jack didn’t put it past him. “Did you want any?”

Gabriel’s back was to him, hands at his sides gripping the bed. “No.”

Jack frowned, but continued eating as he eyed the tendrils of smoke that flowed from Gabriel’s hooded form. Something horrible had happened to his best friend, to his lover, and it had twisted him, warped him into something Jack hadn’t immediately recognized. And, who could blame him? Gabriel _had_ died; the memory forever burned into Jack’s being.

When the explosion rocked them, interrupted their fight, and the Swiss base came down, Gabriel had pushed Jack out of the way of falling debris, and Jack had recovered after the blast only to see a hand sticking free from a pile of rubble, palm down, reaching out to him. Frantically, desperately, Jack had thrown chunks of the ceiling away, ignoring as his bare flesh melted against scalding metal, to unbury the body of the one he’d hoped was still alive but knew in all reality couldn’t possibly be. He’d held Gabriel’s form, limp and bleeding, as he’d pleaded for the truth before him to be a lie, but Gabriel hadn’t woken up, the steel beam through his chest hadn’t gone away, and the blood pooling beneath him hadn’t stopped. For years the images from that day had plagued him, driving him forward toward a single goal, but now he couldn’t care less about what had happened to Overwatch. He only cared about what had happened to Gabriel, because, somehow, the dead man he’d held in his arms was sitting at the end of the bed, still existing. Jack drew breath through his nose, setting his near empty plate down.

“Please, Gabriel,” he began. Gabriel’s shoulders rose and his body tensed as if he were getting ready to bear the brunt of an attack. “What happened to you? How are you here right now, I…” he swallowed, “Gabe, you died.”

“I did. More than once,” he said.

“What?”

His response was clipped, “I don’t want to talk about it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Gabe, that’s not fair,” Jack said, moving towards him. “I lost you six years ago… and now… you’re here,” his hand fell on Gabriel’s shoulder. “You’re really here. I need to know why.”

Gabriel scoffed, rolling his shoulder to force Jack away. “It’s always about you, isn’t it Jack? Fuck, you haven’t learned a damn thing.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he looked at the bed, voice lowering. “That’s not what I meant. You know that, don’t you?”

He got a growl in reply.

That had been the problem, Jack knew; them assuming too much about what the other understood instead of just saying it. Jack wanted desperately not to repeat that mistake. “I just… I want to help you.” He almost asked Gabriel why he’d tried to kill him, but that was something Jack didn’t need him to answer; the guilt lurking in his chest was more than enough. “I want to know why you can turn into smoke and shadow. I want to know why the skin on your face was rotting. I want to know why it felt like you could take my energy from me. I,” Jacks voice cracked, “I want to know what you went through Gabriel. I don’t want you to be alone anymore.” _And_ _I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m so fucking sorry I left you Gabriel. I’m sorry I was never there. I’m sorry I couldn’t deal with my own shit. Don’t shut me out. I can’t handle it. Not again._  “Please let me in.”

Jack saw Gabriel’s claws dig into the bed. He expected him to yell, but his voice was quiet, reserved, “I can’t Jack. It’s just going to hurt us both.”

A frown drew the corners of Jack’s mouth down and he came to sit beside Gabriel, shoulder to shoulder. “That’s already happened more times than I care to count. With all we’ve already been through, Gabe, what’s left for us to lose?”

* * *

 

 _Your soul for one thing._ Gabriel had done so much damage. He’d already tried to kill Jack, more than once. He’d already hurt him physically and emotionally for his own petty reasons, because even after all of these years he _still_ couldn’t manage his anger, and his pain had only made it worse. It had made him blind. _I’m not cruel_. His own voice echoed, untainted by his transformation.

He didn’t used to be, and didn’t want to be any longer. Not to Jack.

Gabriel turned his head toward him, and Jack smiled a little, likely trying for his sake. His mask melted away, more shadows pouring off his face, and he saw Jack’s eyes widen.

“Your face is still… gone.” Jack reached out to touch him, the tips of his gloves caressing the row of bone white teeth that jutted out of his face in a sick grin, sharp and dangerous, curling all the way up to where his ears should be. The rest of his head was a billowing, semi-cohesive mass of darkness. “Why?”

“I haven’t fed. It’s difficult to hold form, and I’ve been under stress, to say the least.” _I’m trying so hard not to be angry with you Jack, to just be here and talk to you instead of yelling about how much you destroyed me. I don’t want to think about it, really. I’d rather things go back to how they used to before we got so fucked up, but knowing it can’t is killing me. I can’t erase what you did no matter how hard I try. It’s making me remember the need to erase you, and I don’t want to._

Jack’s eyes looked to the plate and then back at Gabriel. “I take it you don’t eat normal food, do you?”

Gabriel shook his head. _I should stop here. Jack doesn’t need to know…_

“So, what do you eat then?”

 _He’s not going to believe me._ Gabriel tensed enough he thought he’d snap. His voice was low, cautious, but sincere, “Souls Jack, I eat fucking souls.” Gabriel’s mask reformed to hide his face and he got up.

Jack blinked. “Did I hear you correctly? You’ve always had a flare for the dramatic but–” Gabriel’s hands tightened into fists. “You’re completely serious.”

“Yes.” _Don’t you dare do it. He doesn’t need to see._ “Let me show you.”

Jack didn’t answer immediately, no doubt having an internal debate about what Gabriel was suggesting and what it really entailed. He’d hoped Jack would decline, but he was never really the sort for good luck. “Alright,” Jack said.

Gabriel only nodded as Jack stood. He put on his visor, grabbed his pulse rifle, and followed Gabriel out of the safe house, not commenting on the fact both doors no longer had holes in them.

Dusk was setting on the streets of Dorado, and Gabriel focused on the souls burning brightly through the buildings around him, searching for an appropriate target. Over the years he’d learned which souls were best; they were a lot like bodies and could be broken down by the events of their lives, or strengthened by them, offering Gabriel varying degrees of energy when consumed. He passed a number of exceptional targets, struggling against himself to refrain from attacking them. If he was going to do this in front of Jack, it had to at least be on terms he may be able to accept, and he’d at least tried, when he had control, not to hurt people who didn’t deserve it.

He had a target in mind, a vivacious soul stuck in a wicked body he’d come across when he arrived in Dorado. He’d wanted to kill him to recharge before his mission, but Sombra suggested he’d be easier to get to at night, so Gabriel had settled, picking off two of his associates instead. Juan Cáraves, an officer in _Los Muertos_ , often spent his evenings drinking himself stupid in a small cantina in the northern part of the city.

The safe house wasn’t too far off. Jack had kept up with him as expected, not asking a single question, and soon they were standing on a rooftop overlooking the alley behind the cantina.

“Stay here and wait,” Gabriel said. “When this starts, don’t try to stop me. I…” he clenched his teeth. “I don’t want to make this any worse for you than it already will be. You wanted to know more about me Jack, well, this is me now.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Gabriel leapt off the roof and became smoke, shooting through an open rectangular window above the back door. His target was in the main bar, and he lingered for a while, feeding himself into and behind a potted plant, watching the broad-shouldered man in a biker vest and orange florescent tattoos down tequila shot after tequila shot. It wasn’t long before he got up to use the restroom, and Gabriel followed. No one else was there. His target barely got through the door when Gabriel took him by the throat and phased them both through the wall, shadow-stepping up onto the roof where Jack was.

Before the man could scream Gabriel’s claws had dug into his neck, tearing out his trachea with one hand while holding him beneath his chin with another. Gurgles and wet gasps escaped as blood poured from his mouth, flowing over Gabriel’s glove. Jack didn’t flinch at the violence, or move to stop him. _No turning back now._

His target struggled in his grip momentarily, but his arms dropped to his sides and his will to fight left as Gabriel drew his soul out through his chest. It was the most efficient way, to coax it out with his palm, the strength of his own soul doing most of the pulling through the bridge he’d created with his touch. He rarely had to go in and dig souls out anymore, tearing through organs and bone like he did when he first started feeding, and it seemed his mind hadn’t wanted to relive those memories, because he hadn’t done it since. Gabriel watched the body in his grip wither as its life was removed; color drained, flesh pulled over bone like plastic wrap, eyes blown wide and sunken deep into the skull.

When the soul was safely absorbed he held onto the body for a moment to let Jack get a good look, glancing at him. Still no reaction. Gabriel released the body, claws scraping beneath the dead man’s chin, fingers beckoning, drawing back as if he were pulling on a wire. The remnants of the corpse moved with his gesture, breaking down into particles and absorbing into his form.

“Jack?” Gabriel asked, knowing he was staring beneath that visor of his.

No reply.

“Jack,” Gabriel stepped towards him and went to cup a hand against his face, but Jack raised an arm to block his touch.

“Let’s go back,” he said, tone void of emotion.

Gabriel was glad he was wearing his mask so Jack didn’t see how broken he looked. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

 

* * *

 

_That’s Gabriel now. But, it can’t be..._

Jack sat on the safe house’s bed, disassembling his pulse rifle, trying to distract himself, to calm his frayed nerves, but it wasn’t working as well as it should. He’d just watched Gabriel tear a soul from a man and reduce his body to dust. The pain that must have caused… How many people had he killed like that, and how many more would he have to? It didn’t matter then that his victim had been a criminal. A death was still a death, and Jack couldn’t help but question if he’d inflicted that horror on innocents?

_Gabriel…_

Jack’s mind drifted into his memories, as it often did to try to make himself feel better, to search for his anchor. He found Gabriel there, younger, happy, before everything went sour, before they both changed. Jack knew how much he wanted that Gabriel again. He wanted to see the one he loved enjoying life more than anything, and it hit Jack then, as he reattached the barrel, that such a thing may not be possible.

_This is what Gabriel feared I’d see._

He stared ahead at the wall, his hands moving to take the rifle apart again without really thinking. An old part of him had started to rise, the part that drove him when he was Strike Commander: the desire to protect as many people as possible. Jack’s chest fucking ached, because this time it wasn’t some grand external threat, some force the media could pit Overwatch against that was the danger. Instead, it was Gabriel. Just Gabriel.

Jack needed to stop him, and he felt himself shatter internally at the idea, every strength he’d built up over the years falling away, stripping him bare of Soldier 76 to leave Jack Morrison, the one who’d turned a good man into a soul-eating wraith. _He’s still a good man._ Jack tried to assure himself. _I found him again. Gabriel is here. You can’t take him away. Please don’t make that choice. Please._ He couldn’t. He had to, but he couldn’t. He had to. Jack had to protect everyone.

 

* * *

_  
I’m so fucking stupid._

Jack hadn’t spoken to him since they’d returned. Gabriel had watched him take seat on the bed and go about cleaning his pulse rifle, methodically taking it apart and putting it back together again, which he’d done three times. Gabriel sat on the floor against the wall opposite the bed, knees up, forearms resting on them, and his head back. He’d opted to keep his mask on.

This was pointless. He shouldn’t have shown that to Jack, or opened up at all. _Dios_ , it really would have been better to be fucking remorseless. Maybe that’s why being Reaper had come so easily? Gabriel shook his head. “Jack.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Jack said, snapping the last part of his rifle into place. He got up and walked over to Gabriel, weapon at ease for the time being.

Gabriel scoffed. “My, this is familiar.” Jack stood over him as Gabriel had done before, looming, but not nearly as threatening. He just didn’t look the part. “Are you going to kill me?”

Jack nervously drummed his fingers against the side of the rifle. He’d been thinking about it, Gabriel realized. He didn’t know if he should feel hurt or amused that the tables had turned.

“What are you.” A command. Not a question. He was dipping into the old Strike Commander playbook. _Of course._

“You’re really something, aren’t you Jackie?”

“Answer me.” The drumming stopped and Jack’s grip tightened.

“A monster,” Gabriel’s voice cracked.

“That’s not what I mean,” Jack’s did too. He shook his head. “Please. Why did you have to do that?”

That, Gabriel guessed, was about him consuming a soul. _I shouldn’t answer. Maybe Jack will finally be the one to put an end to me? It would only be right, wouldn’t it?_

“Gabriel,” Jack’s rifle was aimed at him then.

 _Be quiet_. _Just let him_. But Gabriel couldn’t. “I am a machine. I am made of nanites. They are constantly destroying and rebuilding my form, relentlessly going about their directive to preserve my life. They need so much energy to sustain me, and I take what I can, when I can, before the need becomes uncontrollable. I’m forced to do this Jack.” _Forced yes, but part of me has enjoyed it before. I am Gabriel Reyes. I am Reaper. We are the same._

“Nanites?”

“Yes. Your fault and,” a venom injected into his speech, “Angela’s. You put the idea in her head. What was it you said? You’d do anything to have me back? Well, she took your advice. An experimental system; used it on me, worked for a short time. I died once in Zürich and once on her table.” Gabriel laughed. “I woke up in my fucking grave Jack, woke up with an insatiable hunger. I fed on innocent people because I had no control, and I was alone, completely, hopelessly alone. Do you know how much I wanted you with me? How many times I pleaded and screamed your name to no avail? I even…” he laughed again, cackled, actually, “I even tried to kill myself. Do you know what happened Jack?” He held out his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “Obviously, didn’t work.” He made a finger gun, pointing it at his head. “The bullets went right through. Bang, mother fucker, you’re still alive. If you want to try, be my guest, but these little bastards wouldn’t let me do it, so I don’t expect they’d let you either.”

Jack dropped the rifle then dropped to his knees, pulling off his visor. He was crying. “Gabe,” he fell into Gabriel, burying his head in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around him in a hold that would be crushing to anyone else, “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t know Gabe. I didn’t know you were alive. I would have been there… oh God, you went through that alone, all of it alone, and I just wanted to… oh God I though about killing y– I can’t… I…” Jack’s breaths became shallow and he started to hyperventilate.

“Jack,” Gabriel slowly pushed him away, his mask vanishing, revealing his concern. He pressed an open palm to Jack’s torso right below his ribs. “Hey, look at me.”

He didn’t.

“Jack, on me.” Jack focused on him. “ _Bueno_. Now breathe. C’mon Jack. Through your nose, that’s it. _Breathe_.”

He watched Jack, giving him nods of encouragement.

When Jack managed to get his breathing under control he said, “I’m sorry," though it was soft, barely audible. He was ashamed.

“No. _Basta_. Do not apologize for almost having a panic attack,” Gabriel pulled Jack in again so his head was against his chest and stroked his hair soothingly with his talons. Jack settled in, and Gabriel decided to disintegrate his gauntlet glove for a while, replacing cold metal with warm flesh. “It’s not your fault.”

“But a lot is,” he said. “If I had been there for you, we may not have lost everything, and I may not have hurt you.”

Gabriel wasn’t going to deny it, but the blame wasn’t solely on Jack. Gabriel had done his part too, and he’d known that, even under all of the anger and the hate, which hadn’t really gone away. The sting of Jack’s betrayal before Zürich was still there. The part of him that knew how easy it would be to just crush his skull or snap his neck still spoke to him. And Gabriel realized he’d have to address those things sooner rather than later, but for the time being, they could wait. For now, he just focused on the man in his arms, on the one he’d missed dearly no matter how many times he’d told himself he didn’t. “I did a good job shutting you out when you did try.”

Jack only nodded, shifting so his head was pushed up under Gabriel’s chin. “Does it hurt?” he said after a few moments.

“Yes. Every second I exist I’m in pain. Feeding lessens it a little, but not for long.” Pain made him do horrible things, and he hadn’t been strong enough to fight it. He’d been alone, but maybe now, he wouldn’t have to be?

He heard Jack trying to stay his sobbing and held him tighter. It felt… good to be this close to someone, to Jack, again, right even. But, could he really have this? So much had been taken away from Gabriel, or forced upon him, and he’d done nothing but retaliate. Was he really deserving of even an instant of happiness?

Part of him hoped so. He rested his chin on the top of Jack’s head, fingers falling to soothingly rub his neck as he cried quietly. They were both so broken. _We deserve each other, don’t we?_ Gabriel sighed, wondering if there was really enough left of either them to make whole again. Gabriel was a mess, and Jack seemed to be no better. The years really hadn’t done much for either of them, had they? _Two dead men who shouldn’t be, yet somehow are._ He clutched Jack like a life preserver, and they stayed that way for a while, wrapped in the aura of the other’s sorrow.

Jack was the one eventually to break the silence. He never did like it much. “You’re warm for a dead guy.”

He chuckled at the absurdity of the comment, it somehow lifting his mood slightly, or maybe it was just Jack. “Billions of tiny machines working non-stop produce a lot of heat.”

“Looks like a forest fire…” he muttered.

Gabriel’s brow lifted. “Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“How exactly did you find me?” It was stupid to ask. Gabriel already knew.

“I had a little help from your friend.”

“Sombra.” Gabriel smirked. “I’m not surprised.”

He felt Jack shift and he sat up, a rosy hue around his eyes and nose from crying. Even though he’d aged Jack was still beautiful. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his gloved hand. “I’ll have to thank her again. I never would have found you without her.”

Gabriel smiled. It was nice to see Jack happy.

Jack looked down at his hands and started to remove his gloves. Like part of his face, they were burned to shit, especially his palms. He had no ridge detail anymore, replaced by a maze of twisted flesh. Gabriel stared, and without words took Jack’s hands in his own, his other gauntlet glove dissolving. He didn’t even have time to formulate his question before Jack spoke, seeming to read his mind, “I destroyed them trying to dig your body out of the debris you saved me from.” Tears welled in the corners of Jack’s eyes again, but he forced a smile, not even commenting on the fact Gabriel had actual claws. Jack was completely focused on his face. “It’s fine Gabe. They don’t hurt or anything, I just don’t have a lot of sensation.” Gabriel squeezed Jack’s hands. He hadn’t seen Jack do that. When he was disembodied, he’d only seen Jack crying over his corpse, not what happened before. Fuck. Jack had, with reckless abandon, tried to help him, and Gabriel had done nothing but hate him, but attempt to kill him, he…

“No, no, no, Gabriel,” Jack shook his head, thumbs on Gabriel’s cheeks wiping away tears. “I’m okay. You’re okay. It’s all going to be okay now.” Jack’s gaze, soft and caring met Gabriel’s, and he rose, lips alluringly close to his. Gabriel could feel the warm caress of Jack’s breath, and he hung there, as if waiting for permission, no doubt still unsure if what was happening between them was still okay. Gabriel didn’t let him guess.

He grabbed the back of Jack’s head and pressed their lips together, and in that moment, the part of him that was broken seemed to stop existing. There was only Jack, only the softness of his lips, the warmth of his touch. Gabriel felt Jack’s body press against him, his hands firm on Gabriel’s shoulders, pushing him into the wall as his tongue slid into Gabriel’s mouth. Gabriel reciprocated; his own tongue, slick and black, meeting Jack’s. When he pulled back to let Jack breathe, he caught Jack’s bottom lip between his, sucking on it, careful not to bite, knowing how easily he’d break flesh. A small moan escaped Jack, and Gabriel felt fingers brush along his inner thigh. 

The thought of where Jack wanted this to go should have been met with just arousal, but as a new heat settled in Gabriel’s body he found himself unable to focus on it, only thinking of one thing: what if he hurt Jack? He felt Jack return and deepen their kiss, fingers gently stroking him through the leather of his pants. They’d defaulted to sex so many times in the past (even when it did more damage to their relationship than good) it had become second nature, the thing that made them both feel better, even if temporary, and he wasn’t angry at Jack for wanting it then. Gabriel did too, he just…

Gabriel broke away. “Jack, I can’t.”

Jack pulled back, sitting on his knees between Gabriel’s legs. He took both of Gabriel’s hands and entwined their fingers. “What’s wrong?” Concern. No judgment.

“I’ve never had any control when I’m around you… I… Jack... I tried to consume your soul to stop myself from hurting.” _And I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. I never did. Why didn’t you move on?_ “I’m not able to fight it sometimes, and I’m terrified I’m going to do it again. You have no idea what it’s like to have this kind of hunger.” He met Jack’s gaze. “I’m not the man you knew. I’m not able to help people or do what’s right, not anymore, not like we used to before it all got fucked.” His voice shook. “I’ve killed so many to just keep existing– their memories, their voices, are always in my head as constant reminders of the terrible shit I’ve done. Letting you this close to me… I…” Gabriel averted his eyes. He felt Jack lift their hands and plant reassuring kisses on his knuckles.

“You’re not the only one who’s terrified Gabe,” Jack said, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. He sounded confident but didn’t look it, not entirely. “Yes, you’re different now. We both are, really. There’s a lot about you that’s foreign to me, and more that's going to take time for me to accept.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly. Jack was struggling too. Was he going to reject him for what he’d become; if not now then sometime in the future? _Am I going to be alone again?_

“Both about you and myself." He let out a shaking breath and nodded once. "But, I will, if you’ll let me,” Jack continued. “I want to help fix us Gabe. I want us to do it together, like it should have been years ago, if it’s not too late.”

“Jack,” he still couldn’t look at him, “There’s barely anything human of me left.” _There’s a lot of me you haven’t seen._ The thought of he and Jack getting intimate again wasn’t something he could take then, he realized. He didn’t want Jack to see his disgusting, rotting form, bare, the scar of his death on full display, even if he wanted desperately to feel Jack’s skin flush against his. He was still a monster. Nothing could change that.

Jack’s fingertips were on his chin then, guiding Gabriel’s face to meet his once more. A short, tender kiss was planted on his lips. Jack was smiling the entire time, and even after. “I don’t believe that for a second Gabriel. You’ve already proven there’s more humanity in you than you think.”

Gabriel pulled a hand away and ran his fingers over one of the holes in his face. He wasn’t so sure. Jack seemed to be though, for now, as his other hand was met with a strong squeeze, completely ignoring the bits of flesh falling off Gabriel’s fingers, which dissolved before they could land on Jack’s knee. _I’m so disgusting._

“I have an idea,” Jack said.

“In the past, when you said that, I recall it rarely being a good thing.”

Jack laughed. “Well, I hope this one will be different, but I was thinking… it might be good for us to reset a bit don’t you think? Maybe,” Jack bit the inside of his bottom lip, looking hopeful, “start over?”

“What are you getting at exactly?”

“I think we should go on a date.”

All of Gabriel’s eyes blinked at once. “A date? Are you serious Jack?”

“Absolutely.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “And where do you think the former Overwatch Strike Commander turned known vigilante and a famous mercenary with a face pretty enough to cause an aneurism are going to go to have a date?”

To that, Jack grinned a little. Gabriel never liked it when Jack grinned. It was always trouble for him in one form or another. “Oh, I have a place in mind. I just need to go make some arrangements. Are you doing anything tomorrow evening?”

“Uh, no. I’m completely free, for the next few days actually...”

 “Good. So, is that a yes?”

_Is this something I’m going to regret?_

“Gabe?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“It’s a date then.” Jack practically beamed, stretching the scar across his lips.

Gabriel smiled a little. He tried not to, but he couldn’t help it. Jack had always been so damn infectious.

“I’ll ask Sombra to give you the coordinates once I have everything worked out.” He muttered under his breath, “They should still be open…”

Jack was about to get up when Gabriel grabbed him by the wrist, directing his attention. “Jack.”

“Yeah, Gabe?”

He almost didn’t ask. “You’re going to come back to me, right?”

Jack’s excitement dimmed and his expression softened. He leaned into Gabriel and held him tight, speaking into his ear. “I will. I’m not going to make that mistake again. I’m not going to leave you Gabe.” He drew a sharp breath. “I’m not. I know trusting me isn’t something that’s easy for you to do, and I don’t expect it, but at least trust that I’m trying to be better.”

 _So am I._ Gabriel could only nod. He wrapped his arms around Jack, giving him a hug before letting him go. “Alright, do what you need to before I change my mind.”

Jack picked up his pulse rifle and visor, snapping it back on.

“Has anyone ever told you how utterly ridiculous you look in that get up?” Gabriel asked through a saw-toothed sneer.

“Could say the same about you, Reaper.”

“At least I didn’t find mine in some bargain bin for rejected bikers, _pendejo_.” _No, you found yours in a warehouse, technically._

Jack chuckled, hanging on the doorframe. “Well, you weren’t around to make me anything. Speaking of clothes, dress nice.” Gabriel could tell he was smiling as he walked out.

“Dress nice…” Gabriel scoffed. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?” He grumbled and got up off the floor, reforming his mask. Well, if Jack wanted him to dress up, then he was, at the very least, going to exceed all expectations. That part of him was still the same. _This is your fault Jack._ He methodically cracked his knuckles, turned into smoke, and left the safe house. He had a fabric store to rob.

  
**END CHAPTER 11.**            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy day before American Thanksgiving. I bring you gift of sad dads. Next chapter is Jack's flashback that goes with Chapter 4 (and sets up for the explosion), then it's time for date night. <3 Thanks for the support I've gotten so far on this fic. It means a lot. Feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Edit: As of 11/25 I've added a small Jack POV scene (and made a few minor adjustments to the chapter) after receiving some excellent feedback. <3


	12. What I Didn't Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to Jack's mistakes.

Jack was always busy, so much so he’d turned his reality into an excuse. _Lunch date?_ Busy. _Want to get a coffee?_ Busy. _I need to speak with you, Jack._ Busy. _Take a break, Commander._ Too busy.

He’d been locked away in his office for hours, starting into a very cold mug of _Karkadé_ , paperwork long since logged and completed. It was his new usual routine when Gabriel was away. Jack had stopped spending his time in Gabriel’s quarters since they’d become… He sighed. They were more like strangers passing each other on a busy sidewalk than past lovers, – it felt wrong to Jack thinking about it that way, but it was true – yet, even knowing the state of things, he couldn’t help but think about the other man.

For Jack, it was impossible not to. He’d always hated when Gabriel was away on missions without him; it made Jack worry. If there was one thing Jack was certain he did well other than never have a life it was worry far too much. What if Gabriel got hurt? Okay, he admitted, that was something of a norm, but what it was worse this time? What if… what if Gabriel didn’t come back?

 _You’re being ridiculous._ Ana’s voice. _Gabriel knows what he’s doing. You should place more trust in his abilities._

“I should,” Jack said to himself, “but you’re gone Ana, and he could be too, and then I’d be the only one left because I’m stuck behind my fucking desk.” He pushed the mug aside. Why he’d let Ana convince him to start drinking that tea was beyond him; with its magenta, near-crimson color it reminded him too much of blood. _Hardly relaxing_. Jack let out a shaking breath and lowered his head, tugging on his hair. He really wasn’t going to feel any better, was he?

A loud knock on his door made him groan. “I’m very busy,” he called.

The knocking continued, louder and more frantic. “Jack, open up. It’s an emergency.” Jesse’s voice. His heart skipped and he snapped up in his seat. Blackwatch had had two operations going on at once. Jesse’s, the much smaller of the pair, got back three days ago. “Jack, c’mon. I’m serious.”

Jack pressed the touch pad under the surface of his desk to unlock the door. Jesse barged in looking like he’d just run a marathon around base for angering Gabriel then made to do pushups for good measure. He was holding his hat in one hand.

“Gabe’s back. It’s bad Jack, real bad. They’ve got him in the med wing, they’re tryin’ to stabilize him now, doesn’t look good and…” Jesse said more, but Jack didn’t hear him.

Gabriel was back and he was in the medical wing. Jack had stopped visiting that place for what seemed like ages ago. He shouldn’t have, he knew, but he was just too damn scared. Seeing Gabriel hurt sent his thoughts into overdrive; the images of thousands of what if scenarios plaguing him for nights on end. Seeing Gabriel cut, and bruised, and broken made his own heart break every time, and it had gotten to the point where Jack had decided to spare himself the anguish and just not show up regardless of the consequences. Gabriel had always ended up being fine, and Jack would put himself through hell for nothing.

“Jack!” Jesse snapped. “Are you even listenin’ to me?”

“I… Jesse… sorry.” He cleared his throat.

Jesse sighed. “Commander,” he said. Jack could hear him trying to hold back the despair in his voice; he knew all too well what it sounded like. “Gabe might not make it. He might…” Jesse took a sharp breath through his nose. “He might die.”

“Gabe…”

“Look, I know you two aren’t on good terms–”

“What gave you that idea?” Jack muttered. Before Gabriel had gone on his mission the two of them had gotten into a shouting match over, well, Jack couldn’t remember, but it ended with them having a fist fight in the mess hall in front of most of the staff, which even Reinhardt had a difficult time breaking up.

Jesse ignored the comment. “Are you really gunna stay in your office while he’s fightin’ for his life? He… he asked for you. Sent me here.”

Jack covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t go, but at the same time what kind of person would he be if he let Gabriel face this alone? Fuck, he was such a coward.

“Jack,” Jesse looked him right in the eye. “Are you really debating this?”

 Was he? “No, I’m not.” He had to. If he didn’t he’d regret it for the rest of his life, especially if Gabriel actually… “Take me to him.”

 

* * *

Jack barged into the medical wing with Jesse in tow, blue coat flaring out behind him as he headed straight for the emergency room, outwardly doing his best to ignore the surprised looks of some of the staff at his appearance. He tried not to let it bother him, but he’d been a stranger to that part of the base for a long time, so he couldn’t rightly blame them. _They must think I’m horrible… They’re right. I’m so sorry Gabe._

“Where is he?” Jack asked no one in particular when he found the ER empty.

A nurse in the midst of placing blood-soaked trauma pads into a bio-waste disposal unit stopped to look at him, offering a salute, “Commander Reyes is being prepped for surgery, sir.” She pointed to a door at the back of the room. “Through there.” She glanced between him and Jesse. “Don’t tell Dr. Ziegler it was me who told you.”

Jack nodded in thanks and hurried through, entering a short white hall which led to an area that looked like a spaceship airlock in the comics Jack used to read as a kid (and sometimes still did – he had a couple stashed in his desk drawer). The double doors opened for him and Jesse. When they got inside the same doors sealed, planes of blue light washing over them both as they were sterilized. Jack impatiently tapped his fingers against his thigh. Jesse hadn’t said anything since they’d left his office, and while Jack had half-expected some hollow words of encouragement, he realized they’d probably sound hollow to Jesse too.

When the chamber opened they both ran out into a vestibule, a prep area for surgeons filled with cabinets of scrubs and glowing computer monitors, which connected with another corridor opposite their position. Jack didn’t see anyone, but heard voices, and glanced up at the floating screens. Rooms One, Two, and Four were empty, but he could see Gabriel lying on an operating table in Room Three, though obscured by the surgical team huddled around him. A few were buzzing about, gathering equipment, and it looked like they hadn’t started on him yet.

“Jack, I know what you’re thinkin’, but maybe we shouldn’t go–” Jesse tried to say.

But Jack was having none of it. He ran forward, past doors and two large plate glass windows on either side of the corridor. The second room on the right, labeled “3” was impossible to see into; someone had turned up the opacity on the window’s digital interface.

“Gabe?” Jack entered without thinking. “Gabriel!”

“Jack, what are you doing?” Angela spun around, holding her hands up to halt him. She hissed through her surgical mask. “You shouldn’t be in here.” Jack tried to get around her but Angela moved to block him. “ _Jack_.”

“Angela, _please._ ” Jack peered over Angela at Gabriel, and his breath seized as his world spun, a knot wrenching his insides to the point of physical pain. Gabriel’s eyes were closed, face beat all to hell; a bruised grapefruit looked healthier, Jack thought grimly. His dark skin was painted with darker blotches: deep purples in stark contrast to the endless gashes all over his body. Some had closed from the biotic field he was basked in, while others, the deeper ones, would add to his collection of scars. Jack knew most of them well, and his heart sank at the thought of him never getting to know the rest. Gabriel was intubated with another tube inserted in his chest draining blood. Jack didn’t dare to count the number of machines Gabriel was hooked up to, and couldn’t help but stare at the open slash across his midsection, picturing Gabriel’s intestines having spilled out.

“Jack,” he heard Jesse say and two firm hands were placed on his shoulders. “C’mon.”

He felt Jesse pull him backwards and wanted desperately to resist, but let himself be led, affixed on Gabriel as if he were about to fade from memory. Angela sighed, looking at him with compassionate eyes as one of the members of the surgical team told her they were ready to begin. “It’ll be okay Jack.”

Jack didn’t really believe her. When they were out of the operating room he sat against the wall below the window, sliding down it, and put his head in his hands. Jesse sat beside him.

“You plannin’ on waitin’ until you know for sure?” he said.

Jack only nodded.

“Yeah, me too Commander.”

“What happened?” Jack asked, voice trembling and he tugged at his hair to stop the rest of his body from following suit. He stared at the floor, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on top of them. Normally he’d never let his composure slip, to allow those under his command to see weakness in him, but at that moment he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Dunno, but it’s nothin’ good. No one else came back from the op.” Jesse said quietly. “Did no one tell you?”

He didn’t know. He’d shut off all of his communications intentionally when he locked himself in his office. Jack didn’t _try_ to do that, he _shouldn’t_ have done that, but there were just some days when his need to completely block himself off from his duty overtook his better judgment. And as he sat there with his back to the wall, his back to Gabriel, he couldn’t help but want to shut down again.

“We don’t talk anymore.” Jack’s voice was a whimper. “And he asked for me?”

“Yeah, he did.”

Jack couldn’t look at Jesse. “What else did he say?”

“Nothin’ really coherent, surprised he was conscious at all. Was slippin’ in and out a lot. Heard him say _sol_ a few times though.” Jesse paused. “There was somthin’ else, now that you mention it.” Slowly, Jack looked in his direction. Jesse was sitting with his legs out, hat in his lap, tracing the edge of the brim with his thumb. “Said ‘killed them’, then what sounded like ‘Voronov’ followed by ‘I did’.”

Nikolai Voronov was, if Jack recalled, one of Blackwatch’s louder members, often joining in on drinking games during the base’s poker night when they were able to hold it on Fridays. He was as big and broad-shouldered as Gabriel, even tempered, and not nearly as good at winning said drinking games. Other than those tidbits, and the fact Voronov was exceptional with heavy weapons, Jack admitted he didn’t know a whole lot about the man.

“I was out for a smoke when I saw it land. Voronov’s body was in the cockpit of the VTOL,” Jesse said. “Took a knife to the back of the skull. Gabe was slumped over the controls, barely breathin’, holding his guts in with duct tape. Saw a pen tube sticking out of his chest too. Got the medics right away. The bastard’s strong Jack, is what I’m sayin’. I dunno what happened, but Gabe musta had a good reason for killin’ him.”

Jack nodded. Of course Gabriel did. He’d always been adamant about avoiding unnecessary deaths on missions, methodical and careful. There was no reason to doubt him, and Jack’s thoughts drifted to the image of him lying on Angela’s operating table. He struggled to control his breathing, to silence the sound of his own voice in his head: _He’s going to die. Gabriel is going to die. You’re going to be left alone. You’re not going to get to say goodbye or tell him you’re sorry for ignoring him, for hurting him constantly. He doesn’t even know you came to see him today. You’re such an ass Jack. You’re horrible. You’re not even deserving of –_

“Strike Commander, sir?” a female voice said.

Jack snapped his head up, immediately pulling himself together to fit the persona. He stared at one of his assistants, a pale woman with green eyes, black hair, and an Overwatch blue blazer that matched his own uniform. “Hello Olivia,” he forced a smile.

“Sir, you have a communication from Liason Thorpe on your private line.”

“Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid not. It’s urgent, sir.” Olivia paused. “She is very insistent.”

Jack was mentally torn between telling his assistant to have Thorpe fuck off or just entirely ignore the fact she wanted to talk to him. Instead he stood, the Strike Commander winning out. “Of course.”

“Jack.”

He looked over his shoulder at Jesse.

“I’ll stay here. Let you know if anything happens, okay?”

Jack nodded. He spoke with as much sincerity as he could muster without breaking down into tears, “Thank you.”

“Come back when you can.”

“I will.” Jack said as he followed Olivia out.

           

* * *

Jack sat at his desk, rigid, professional, but utterly hollow, the lights in his office having dimmed. He was staring at a holographic screen projected on the space in front of him and on it was the unwelcome visage of the UN Blackwatch Liason, Imogen Thorpe. She was a small woman, unassuming really, a brunette in a cranberry suit with a stern personality likely stemming from having to deal with too much bullshit. He understood completely, though it did little to affect his lack of fondness for her. She handled the Blackwatch mission reports and assignments.

“Ms. Thorpe,” Jack began, “I was told you had an urgent message for me?”

“Have you seen Commander Reyes at all?”

Jack swallowed. “Yes.” He already didn’t like where this was going.

“Did you speak to him?”

“No,” Jack nervously laced his fingers together. “I did not. Jesse did a little. He didn’t say much.” _He said sol a few times…_ _sunshine_ … _Gabriel…_

“I see,” she said, lips a hard line. “I have been informed of his condition. Should he survive, listen to what he says, but do not take it as truth, Strike Commander.”

“With all due respect Ms. Thorpe, why wouldn’t I?”

“Commander Reyes was the only member of his squad to return. Their mission was a simple observe and extract, granted in hostile territory, but their intel was solid, and there’s little reason it should not have gone as planned. So, tell me, why did the other agents sent with Commander Reyes fail to return?”

“I don’t know.” He blinked. “How are you aware of any of this? If Reyes was the only survivor, and he’s…” Jack clenched his teeth to bite back the rising sorrow, “in the medical wing, how do you know what went on?”

At that, Ms. Thorpe looked down at a tablet in her hands and touched the screen. Voronov’s face, battered and bleeding, appeared. He was in the cockpit of the VTOL.

“God, I hope someone sees this,” his Russian accent was thick and he was breathing in tight gasps that made it difficult to understand what he was saying, but Jack managed. “I’m airborne now. I think I left him behind,” Voronov looked over his shoulder, fresh blood running down his face from a deep gash in his forehead, “but, Commander Reyes, he just, snapped, killed Amir, Morales, Branko, and Weiss, tried to kill me. I have…” he scoffed, “no idea why. We… we tried to stop him, but he just…” Voronov squeezed his eyes shut and started speaking in Russian, which Jack wasn’t very good at, but he thought he heard “Super Soldier” mixed in there.

Jack heard the scream of sliding metal as the cockpit door was forced open. “You piece of fucking shit,” Gabriel’s voice. “Who are you calling? How _dare_ you. No one’s going to help you. Come here, _pendejo_.”

Voronov spun around and Jack caught a brief glimpse of a furious Gabriel, who looked only slightly better than he seemed on the operating table earlier. The camera shook as Vornov’s head was slammed into the console. The feed became static. Gabriel screamed in Spanish then it went black.

“That arrived in my inbox,” she said flatly.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t believe it. There must be another side to this. Gabriel wouldn’t do that without a good reason.”

“Do not allow your relationship to Commander Reyes cloud your judgment.”

“I’m not.” He was, but he still believed what he was saying. “Gabriel wouldn’t kill his own team.”

“We are not so sure.”

“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation right now,” Jack shot up, slamming his palm on his desk. “Gabriel was, no, is a hero, and he’s performed his duties in Blackwatch with exemplary measure. He’s a great Commander Ms. Thorpe, and an even better man. I’ll stake my job on it.”

“It’s a good thing then that giving up the position you swore you’d uphold isn’t an option.” She sighed. “Blackwatch has been under investigation for some time Strike Commander, and before you ask you weren’t informed because we didn’t feel it was necessary. We had no evidence of any foul play until recently.” She touched her tablet again. Her communication minimized to the upper right hand corner of Jack’s screen and an archive file opened. “You should recognize those.”

Jack scanned the screen. They were Blackwatch mission reports. He’d read them all before. “What about them?”

“Those are the files Commander Reyes sent to me, and then I to you. And these,” she tapped her screen again. Another archive file opened. “Are the real ones, acquired from an encrypted folder on the Commander’s personal computer. Take your time to read them Jack. I’ll wait.”

This wasn’t right. Jack’s eyes darted over the mission reports, comparing the first set of files to the second. The ones he’d read were clean, scrubbed of most of the gory details contained within the real ones. There were prisoner deaths, beatings, torture, numerous other human rights violations, civilian casualties, arm sales, mission botches he’d never even heard of. Jack’s stomach churned and for a moment he felt like he was going to wretch all over his desk. This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. None of this was Gabriel. _This isn’t the man I know… the man I… love… But a lot of that has changed, hasn’t it?_

“We’d suspected he’s been operating outside of set UN parameters for some time. There are likely other agents involved. Know we do not make these accusations lightly Strike Commander, and expect that our investigation and its details remain your eyes only. The gravity of the situation and the consequences for Overwatch are staggering, especially if knowledge of this somehow meets the public.”

Jack was silent. _Not Gabriel. Not my Gabriel. No, no, no. He didn’t. He couldn’t._

“Strike Commander Morrison.”

His only reply was a whimper.

“Jack.”

He looked up to meet her cold gaze. “We could use your help.”

“I… I don’t know what I can do.”

“While this video and the reports are steps closer, we’re firmly lacking a motive, and with that in mind we’d prefer to handle this quietly to maintain Overwatch’s integrity.” Jack scoffed a little. He was trying to do that, he really was, but over the past few years some members of the media had been asking if they really needed Overwatch at all, if it was doing more harm than good. The bad guys hadn’t gone away; they’d just changed forms. Gone were the days of killer robots; instead replaced by terrorists, crime syndicates, and others like them looking to take advantage of a still broken world, even after all the time Jack and others had spent trying to mend it. Gabriel wasn’t like those people, was he? “Which means our case must be airtight. We’d like you to join our investigation and help us find one, as you are… close to Commander Reyes.”

Jack laughed a little. “I used to be. It hasn’t been like that for a long time.”

“Still,” she said. “You have a chance to do some good here Jack. Reyes has undoubtedly hurt people, and we need to stop him from hurting others. Do what you can. See if you can find out why he turned on his squad mates.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” Jack said quietly, words laced with doubt.

“Voronov’s confession is fairly damning, as are the reports.”

Jack nodded.

“Just continue to do what you do. Go about your day as if nothing is wrong, but be observant, especially with Reyes if he does survive. We’ll be suspending him from active duty for a while, though with his injuries he shouldn’t question it.”

_Gabe…_

“You have a duty Strike Commander. See you uphold it.”

Imogen Thorpe left him alone then with the Blackwatch reports and his thoughts. Jack sunk in his chair, sliding right out of it to crawl beneath his desk. The silence of his office was filled with Jack’s cries of pain. He never did get around to seeing Gabriel again in the medical wing.

**END CHAPTER 12**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety-ridden Jack Morrison is my favorite. His portrayal is based off my own life-long struggles with the same illness. I'm mean to him because I care. Working on developing him in this fic some. More of that as we continue. Date chapter is next week. #hype.
> 
> [kerrigore.tumblr.com](http://kerrigore.tumblr.com)


	13. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two old men find something they never had before: time.

“Are you sure this is where he said to meet?” Gabriel asked, standing behind a bell tower atop a building on the same street as his destination, cloaked in the comfort of his Reaper garb. The tail of his coat swayed as it caught the breeze from the ocean.

“ _Si._ The coordinates are exact, and isn’t that a stupid question coming from someone who sees souls?”

He ignored her. “It’s a bakery,” Gabriel said flatly staring at the quaint sunshine-orange building with the words “ _Panadería Las Nieblas_ ” over a set of green double doors. “He’s not planning dinner, is he? He knows I don’t eat… unless his memory’s gotten that bad over the years.”

Sombra cackled. “As if I’d tell you _Rey en Negro_.”

“How much _do_ you know?”

“Oh your C _hico de Oro_ wouldn’t stop gushing over his plans. For a grumpy old _soldado_ he’s quite the romantic.”

Gabriel drummed his claws against the bell tower. Usually he’d been the romantic one, doing everything he could to make his sunshine feel special. Jack did have his moments though, when he was able to work up the courage. Gabriel smiled at the notion of Jack being excited over something. Jack had always been, and still was, incredibly passionate when he found a worthwhile cause. It gave him something else to focus on other than what was going on in his head, Gabriel knew. Though, Gabriel doubted he himself was worthwhile. He was a killer, something vile, and a creature like him should be met with revulsion, not…

“Besides,” Sombra continued, “how do you know you can’t eat? Not like you’ve actually tried since I’ve known you.” She snapped her fingers over the com. “I was sure the rice pudding offer would have done the trick too…”

Gabriel growled. “Sombra I don’t have a stomach.” Or he didn’t the last time he checked.

He heard Sombra scoff and pictured her dismissively waving at the screen. “ _Dramático._ Next thing you’ll tell me is you don’t have a heart.”

“Not one that’s functional, no. Why am I even answering? You know this already.”

“Just because certain things don’t function now doesn’t mean they can’t change in the future. You have a surprising amount of control over your nanites, and I’ve noticed, recently, you’ve started doing things you hadn’t before.”

“Sombra,” he snapped. “How much have you seen?”

“Heard, mostly. And, all of it, though I was doing other things while I eavesdropped. _Mira,_ before you get angry I was only doing it to make sure you were alright. Not my fault it ended up being some of the best entertainment I’ve had in a while.”

Gabriel’s claws punctured the stone of the bell tower.

“You cried yesterday, Gabriel,” she continued. For some reason, hearing her say his name made him less pissed off. The word felt… normal, and he didn’t want to correct her. “Which, according to the last time I spoke with your machines, is something you haven’t done in six years. You are… different than you were. Am I wrong?”

He didn’t reply, forcing the stale air that collected in his lungs out in a sigh. Those still didn’t work, not like they should in someone alive. His nanites would use them as a means of quickly getting rid of more waste, more smoke, and he could force inhale and exhale, but he didn’t need to breathe to survive, not like Jack did. But, Sombra had a point, he supposed. He had cried. A trivial change in the grand scheme of his fucked up existence, but a change none the less.

“ _Rey en Negro_?”

“No, you’re not.”

“It sounds to me like something you’d lost returned with the machine when you came out of your stasis.” She spoke cautiously. “Something human.”

“Maybe, but my body is still a product of their design. I am made for them when it comes down to it; a man in form, and then only sometimes.”

“Ah, but it would be unwise for the machine to deny the man some of who he was. They exist for you and you for them, even if your relationship is sometimes strained.”

“I wouldn’t call my chronic pain ‘strained’, Sombra.”

“ _Lo siento_ ,” Sombra said. The gravity of her mistake was immediate. “I overstepped, but you know it’s a trade-off, pain for power, and both of which you’ve grown accustomed to.” He’d been fastidious about his soul consumption, ensuring he had enough energy to compensate for the demand of his machines. He’d refused to let himself be completely consumed by his hunger, not since before he became Reaper, but sometimes, he’d learned, even when he managed his feeding well, Gabriel would still have days where his pain was unbearable, where missions were impossible, and where being confined to a bed was the only option. Gabriel didn’t know why his pain levels increased sometimes, especially when nothing else changed, he just knew they did. _Memories._ Sombra had told him once. _They sometimes remember what it felt like to die._ He wished they didn’t. “How are you right now, by the way?”

“Apprehensive,” he replied. “Jack didn’t talk to you about anything that happened before, did he? Nothing about, well, how he feels about me now?” _How I look now, or how he really is after I almost ate his soul?_

“I told you he was gushing, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“So stop worrying. Now, you’d best get in there. You’re going to be late.”

Gabriel nodded. “Do me a favor.”

“ _Si_?”

“Let me have tonight.”

“Alright. That’s fair, but only if you promise me something.”

“What?”

“Drop the baggage and enjoy yourself for once.”

He blinked, thrown off guard by the bluntness of her statement. “I’ll try…”

“ _Bueno_. No spying on my end then, but I will be ensuring your little _noche romántica_ remains secret.”

“I appreciate it.”

“ _No se preocupe_. Oh, forgot to mention, but I transferred the money for the fabric you picked out tonight into the shop owner’s account, and paid off his outstanding debts.”

Gabriel nodded. He had more than enough to spare, and being he was a ghost, he had little use for what Talon paid him. “Sombra.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for everything you do for me.”

Sombra chuckled. “ _Por favor, por favor_ , shower me with more adulation. I like this new side to you _Rey en Negro_.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said with a growl.

She just laughed. It was the last thing he heard before the communicator shut off. Gabriel lingered for a few moments, part of him actually debating if he should show or not, fixed on the glow of Jack’s soul on the first floor. Start over, Jack had said. Was that even possible? How could either of them put what had happened, what they did to each other, behind them, even for one night? Fuck, it had to have been at least a decade since he’d been on a date. He shook his head. This was a terrible idea. Why had he agreed to it? He should –

“ _Gabriel_.”

“I thought you’d left.”

“And I thought you were leaving,” Sombra’s voice said. “Get off that roof and into that _panadería_ before I fly all the way out there and push you.”

Gabriel smirked, knowing, if given the chance, she actually would. “Goodnight Sombra.”

“ _Buenas noches._ ”

He leapt off the roof, hit the ground as smoke, and slithered up to the side door, mostly out of sight. He reformed and knocked once.

 

* * *

Jack’s thoughts had been getting to him again, but what else was new? He sat inside the bakery on a chair against the wall, idly tapping his foot. Of course Gabriel would show. Why wouldn’t he? _Because you shot at him. Because you didn’t believe him when he said you were being manipulated. Because you honestly thought he’d killed his own squad mates to silence them. Because you thought he was corrupt. Because you were scared._

“Because you were stupid,” Jack said to himself. “And I don’t blame him if he decides to blow off this ill-conceived attempt at fixing us.” He stared down at his burn-scarred hands. “Maybe this was a mistake…”

A single sharp knock at the side door almost took Jack out of his seat in surprise. He shot up and rushed to answer. “Gabriel I’m glad you…” Jack blinked, scrunching his nose. “Why are you wearing your combat gear?” Jack didn’t say it, couldn’t say it, but suddenly he was worried Gabriel was only there to confirm his thoughts, that he couldn’t do it, that he was going to leave and go back to being Reaper after Jack had just found him again, found out he was alive. Jack was trying his best to hide his fears, but something must have slipped (or Jack had just forgotten how well Gabriel could read him) because Gabriel stepped forward and placed one finger across Jack’s lips, urging silence in both his words and his thoughts.

Jack watched in awe as Reaper’s visage dissolved before him, the long leather coat and body armor transforming to become a perfectly tailored three-piece suit with a double breasted coat, sleek and black with accents of deep crimson on its peaked lapels and cuffs. Gold buttons engraved with the form of a swopping owl adorned the fabric, which hugged Gabriel’s no doubt still toned form in all of the right places. Jack reached out to touch him, and Gabriel made no effort to stop him, his hand landing gently against Gabriel’s chest.

“This is impressive.” Jack’s finger’s traced across the lapel and up the collar, which became a hood, much like the one Gabriel wore as Reaper, only this was lined with red silk to match the suit’s accents. He had it down for the time being, showing off his wonderful curls, peppered with grey, the sides and back of his head neatly shaved. “How did you do it?”

“If you’ll recall, flesh isn’t the only thing my nanites can make,” Gabriel looked the same as he had before: six extra eyes, holes in his face spewing smoke, a maw of bone-white razors, and it was then, Jack decided, that none of it mattered, and never really had. He still saw the man who’d lit up Jack’s day with his smile, who’d stared at him with heavy-lidded eyes across conference tables during meetings, who, even considering how he’d risen from death, was still beautiful in every sense of the word. Time hadn’t touched him since the explosion had parted them.   

“Right,” Jack put a hand to his own chest where Gabriel’s dog tags hung.

Jack’s self-induced stress over what Gabriel had become had mostly faded (though the experience of nearly having his soul consumed dwelled in the back of his thoughts where he’d pushed it aside for the time being), and he’d come to terms with the fact that he’d never truly been afraid of the monstrous visage itself, but rather what it meant for both him and Gabriel. His new features were more like scars to Jack, stark and inescapably visible, constantly telling him of the immeasurable pain Gabriel was in, had gone through without him, _because of him_ , and, if anything, emphasized just how human he was instead of diminishing it. Having acknowledged that, Jack knew he’d have to be courageous enough to do the things he’d failed to do before and not slip back into his old patterns. Out of all of the people he’d hurt as Strike Commander, out of everyone he’d utterly, disgracefully failed, it had been Gabriel who’d suffered the brunt of it. And that was what scared him the most: the idea that he could repeat his mistakes again. _I’m done letting that happen._

Gabriel offered a small smile, “And I wanted to look good for you.”

“And you do. You look great, Gabe.” _Still have your creativity. I’m glad._

“You too, Jackie,” Gabriel paused, momentarily debating before the word rolled off his tongue, “ _querido_.”

Jack felt himself blush, his usual reaction to Gabriel’s endearments returning in full force.

“Though I have to ask,” Gabriel slid the door shut behind him, moving closer to Jack, a wry smirk spreading across his lips as he tugged at the navy blue lapels, “Where’d a vigilante get a suit?”

“The same place he got access to this place for the evening. I saved the shop owner’s daughter from some _Los Muertos_ punks a few days back,” Jack rubbed the back of his head. “I’d never normally ask for anything,” _I wanted to make this work, I wanted to make it up to you, I wanted to try_ , “but when I explained my intentions she smiled, loaned me this suit,” a suit that fit him surprisingly well, “and helped me with some other things,” Jack explained. “They’re off to enjoy the festival for the next few hours, so it’s just you and me.” _The way it should have been._

“That was bold,” Gabriel said, surprise in his tone. Jack had been selfless in the past, and saving a life wasn’t a debt, but an honor. Still was, as far as he was concerned, but his desire to do something special for Gabriel had outweighed his sense. He was glad Alejandra and her mother Carmen had been so receptive to his ideas, and to him. It was good to know kind people still existed.

“Yeah, maybe a little bit.”

Gabriel stared at him, all of his eyes soft, expressing a certain fondness that made Jack’s heart flutter. Scarred knuckles brushed Jack’s cheekbone, “Well, I’m proud of you.”

“Gabe…”

He cleared his throat, letting his hand fall, “So, what’s on for tonight? What grand plan did the great Jack Morrison scheme up, hmm?”

Jack smiled and turned around, going behind the shop counter to produce an oversized picnic basket. Gabriel’s face deadpanned, but before he could say anything Jack took his hand and was tugging him into the back of the building, through a small green door, and up a stairwell. He guided Gabriel to the roof, and under the gaze of thousands of bright stars, Jack spread a flannel blanket from the basket and sat down, patting the space beside him.

 

* * *

 

 

It was insane how adorable Jack was, his age a grace, only serving to emphasize the elegance of his features. Soft, pale skin cut by scars, the larger one on his forehead almost reaching his hair, which glowed beneath the near full moon, the color of its light. Jack’s eyes still held that same innocent blue he remembered: the azure of the sky after a parting rainstorm deepening to midnight at the edges of his iris. Wrinkles and dark circles surrounded them, but instead of making him look tired they provided contrast, allowing Gabriel to see how much those eyes shone when they were on him.

He knew then he would have regretted not showing up. Gabriel cursed at himself for even having had the thought as he sat down on the blanket beside Jack.

“I know you don’t eat food anymore,” Jack began, digging through the picnic basket, “so I’m sorry if I screwed up and this isn’t going to work for you, but I figured it’s been a long while since you had this…” He presented an unlabeled wine bottle filled with an amber-colored liquid that certainly wasn’t wine. “It’s Long Island Iced Tea.”

Gabriel’s brow shot up. His favorite. “No shit?”

Jack smiled, fishing out two glasses and pouring them both a drink. “Mixed it myself.” He handed Gabriel his. “Oh, wait, hold on,” Jack removed a small container from the basket, plucking out a lemon wedge, which he pushed into the rim of Gabriel’s glass. “There.”

“ _Gracias._ ”

“ _De nada._ ” Jack continued to smile.

Gabriel appreciated the Spanish, knowing it was one of the phrases he’d confidently picked up over the years. Gabriel briefly wondered if Jack’s use of the language had gotten any better now that UN wasn’t constantly breathing down his neck, deciding every facet of his life. He'd been passable at it, as he was with most commonly-used languages, a, and Gabriel snickered to himself, 'Jack of all trades' lacking fluency in anything other than English, unlike Gabriel. His time in Blackwatch had given him ample reason to become fluent in over a dozen languages, while Jack never really needed that; he had just had to get through diplomatic pleasantries and the drivel that often followed.

“Something wrong?” Jack asked, a hint of concern in his tone.

 _Oh nothing Jack, just the fact I’m not going to be able to taste the drink you so painstakingly made me._ “Not a thing,” And there he was again, back to lying. Fuck, he was so predictable. He muttered under his breath, “ _Dame esto, malditos bastardos._ ” He raised the glass and took a sip, feeling only the liquid slide down his throat. He tasted nothing, like usual.

“Do you always talk to your nanites?” Jack sipped his drink. He spoke through a smirk. “You know, they might be more receptive to you if you didn’t insult them.”

“You understood me.”

“ _Sí, claro_. I’ve had plenty of time to kill, and it only made sense to spend it doing things that were worthwhile, that I would have done years ago had I not been an utter mess all of the time.” He motioned to Gabriel’s glass. “Can’t taste it, can you?”

Gabriel shook his head, immediately feeling guilty.

“It’s alright Gabe,” Jack’s tone was light. He chuckled. “I’ll enjoy it for the both of us.”

 Gabriel scoffed, “Ass.” He wasn’t mad though; unable to ignore that Jack’s sense of humor was starting to show. _He’s getting comfortable._

Jack took a big gulp, chugging his drink. Gabriel couldn’t help but stare at his bobbing Adam’s apple. “So, what else doesn’t work? Anything important I should know about?”

Gabriel laughed a little. “Are you implying something there Jackie?” Gabriel grinned, feigning confidence, but in all honestly he hadn’t actually gotten off in a while, so fuck if he knew. Not that he’d had a reason to, really, until now. He _did_ want Jack, and the more he thought about it the more it became a certainty. Gabriel was just… _disgusting, appalling, undesirable._ Once Jack saw the entirety of his body Gabriel knew there was no way Jack would want him too, no matter how much he’d seemed he did.

Jack snapped his fingers and Gabriel jolted, focusing on him.

“You zoned out.”

“Oh,” Gabriel cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean to.” 

“My fault?”

“No. Wasn’t you,” Gabriel finished off his drink, because he’d be damned if it was going to go to waste. To hell with him not being able to taste it. He set the empty glass down on the blanket and clapped his hands once. “Alright,” Starting over… Maybe things _would_ be easier later if Jack knew more about his body now. He guessed Jack had said it best before, what more could they lose? _You know the answer to that._ _There’s always something more to lose._ Shut up, he told himself. “As far as shit not working goes, well, I don’t need to breathe, sleep, or eat, so any processes that go with those are out. My sense of touch is pretty dull when it comes to temperature, not that I’m bothered by that one at all.”

“And yet I’m told you still complain about the cold.”

His eyes all narrowed. “How much have you and Sombra talked, _pendejo_?” Gabriel pointed an accusing finger at Jack.

“Enough,” Jack smiled wryly.

“I wasn’t bitching about the cold Jack, it was the fucking snow. I was in a blizzard with almost zero visibility and high winds.” Gabriel motioned to his own face, “Shit was getting in my mask. I had every right to complain.”

Jack laughed and Gabriel pursed his lips. _Fucking farm boy and his fucking snow._ “Yeah, alright, laugh it up. The next time we end up in someplace with snow we’ll see how much you laugh when I bury you in it, right up to that pretty little neck of yours.”

At that Jack smiled. He did too. It was eerie how easily they’d fallen back into step, and for the moment, Gabriel was feeling good, better than that even. It was like he could have forgotten how much the man in front of him had ruined him, almost. He felt a small pang of anger, but forced it away for the time being. He’d deal with it later. Tonight wasn’t meant to let all of their wounds bleed.

“You know I’d never be able to back down from a challenge Gabe. Least of all one from you.” Jack slid closer, meeting Gabriel’s gaze, “What else is there,” he took a deep breath and Gabriel could see he was getting nervous about something. “I noticed before, when I had my head on your chest, that your heart wasn’t beating.”

“Yeah, that’s a thing too I guess.” _I wasn’t kidding about being dead Jack._ “No blood either. Just…” He waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, I’ll show you.” Gabriel turned up a palm, brought a claw to it, and slid it across his skin. A teeming blackness seeped out for a second before it retreated and the cut healed.

“Nanites?”

Gabriel nodded.

He noticed Jack ball his fists and set them on his thighs, rapidly tapping them.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to make you upset.”

“Jack, c’mon.”

“What about the extra eyes, the teeth, the black tongue, the claws, where did that all come from?” He squeezed his eyes shut and spoke quickly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Hey,” Gabriel moved closer to cup a hand beneath Jack’s chin. “Jackie.” _Don’t do this. Open your eyes. I can’t stand that you’re hiding from me. Please._ Gabriel felt his hand shake. “Please look at me.” His voice must have sounded pathetic then, because Jack’s eyes flew open in response. “Are you afraid of me?” _Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? That’s why he was thinking about putting a bullet in you before you made him break down with all of your sad shit._

“No,” Jack shook his head, sincerity in his words. Gabriel briefly wondered if he was feigning it. The Strike Commander hadn’t left him entirely, he knew. “I’m afraid _for_ you. If the nanites did this to your body, then what else can they do? What more are you going to have to go through that you haven’t already?” Jack shook his head. “I didn’t mean to think about it, I just–”

Gabriel gently covered Jack’s mouth with his hand. “You always did worry too much,” he pulled away slightly and his thumb caressed Jack’s bottom lip, “for the both of us.” He forced a smile. _Don’t be mad. It’s not his fault the bad thoughts come easily to him; he’s been alone with them as long as you have, and lately you haven’t been much better._

Jack nodded, but was clearly still bothered.  So was Gabriel. Jack was right; those features were far from normal, far from human, and Gabriel hated that he had to see them whenever he looked in the mirror (which he avoided), and hated even more that Jack had to.

Ana’s voice wormed its way into his head then, _“Don’t keep things from him, and don’t lie to me and tell me you’re not. It’s written all over your scowl. Even when you’re subtle enough that I can’t tell, he can. Perhaps if you were honest with Jack you wouldn’t be fighting and he wouldn’t be driving himself to insomnia with worry. Talk to him Gabriel.”_

It was sad he needed to be reminded, still, especially by a dead woman. _Thanks Ana._

He exhaled a twisting serpent of smoke as if he were letting all of his inhibitions go, “I think I’m beyond the worst of it,” _minus the bad pain days_ , “and no, I have no idea why I’m like this. Neither does Angela or Sombra, for that matter.” His fingers slid down to trace Jack’s jawline. Underneath the scarring, it was exactly how he remembered it. “I just came back wrong, I guess.”

“Not wrong, never wrong,” Jack cupped both sides of Gabriel’s face, forcing their eyes to meet, “just different.”

“How is this,” Gabriel forced Jack’s hands away then motioned to himself with a sweep of his own, “not wrong, Jack?”

“You’re still you.” His brow lifted, and Gabriel saw a small glint of hope in Jack’s elegant blues, “Underneath your own perceptions you’re still the same difficult man I fell in love with during the SEP.” Unspoken words hung in the air then, and Gabriel was almost certain he knew them: _Aren’t you?_

He was. Somewhere. It was difficult to deny that now, he admitted. “I mean, kind of.” Gabriel let his mind wander into his memories, and they bloomed instead of being buried. “I would have kicked the ever living shit out of the young me; wasting time by dancing around it, admiring you when I thought you weren’t looking, dreaming about you as I touched myself in the dark…”

“Mmm,” Jack chuckled, “and I remember when I walked in on you, uttering my name under your breath. It was funny when you tried to deny it.”

“Walked in on is a bit of an exaggeration; more like you were watching and decided to interrupt at the opportune moment.”

Jack shrugged, “What can I say, you were hot,” he smiled, “still are.”

“Oh, you think I’m hot, huh Jack? This hot to you too?” Gabriel flipped up his hood, pulling it down as far as it would go, shrouding part of his face in shadow. He turned away from the moon and focused all of his eyes on Jack. Gabriel knew they glowed with a mirror-sheen, each with a _tapetum lucidum_ , making him look like a nocturnal predator. He flashed his teeth for good measure. Part of him was serious, wanting proof that Jack had meant what he’d said about not being afraid, while the other part, the part that was truly Gabriel, just felt like trying to get a rise out of Jack.

To his dismay, Jack regarded him with dull calm, seemingly unfazed. “My opinion on the matter still stands. Gabe, with everything we used to do together do you honestly think a few cosmetic changes would make me want you less?”

Gabriel let part of his face meld with the darkness and few more eyes opened, shifting with the flow of his smoke. He cackled low, the timbre of his unearthly tone dominant.

“Okay, now you’re just showing off,” Jack rolled his eyes. “Alright, enough of that.” Jack lunged forward, taking the hood down.

Gabriel fell back so Jack was on top of him, relieved Jack was still there. He felt his face shift back to its normal degree of hideousness, though he wanted to melt under the sun above him. _Mi sol_. Once a testament of their bond, since used as an insult, Gabriel knew he could no longer say those words to Jack. His sunshine had long since burned out and had been replaced by something else entirely.

“You’re still such a dork Gabe.” Jack settled in, his forearms comfortable across Gabriel’s chest, head hovering above his as Gabriel’s hands fell on Jack’s hips.

“And you’re still so…” Gabriel’s words trailed off into memory. “Breathtaking.” He was getting comfortable too, adrift in the endless sea of Jack’s eyes. He ran a hand briefly though his white hair. “Even if you’ve lost the sun, you’ve gained the moon, _mi luna_.”

As if on cue, Jack’s pale cheeks flushed pink, and he tried to cover his obvious sheepish smile with his hand. “Gabe…”

_We were good once. Maybe we can be again? Maybe… this can work?_

Gabriel took Jack’s hand and laced their fingers before he used his other to guide Jack’s head down to meet his lips. Their kiss only lasted for a few seconds as Jack suddenly broke it and rolled off him, pushing up his sleeve to check his watch.

“Uh, Jack?” Gabriel blinked.

“I almost lost track of the time,” Jack stood, pressing the wrinkles out of his suit with the heel of his hand and shuffling through the picnic basket again. He removed an old radio, turned it on, and set it down. It was in the middle of playing a Mexican _bolero_.

“What are you…?”

Jack offered a hand. “Gabriel Reyes, may I have this dance?”

Gabriel snorted, trying not to laugh at how goofy Jack sounded, but when he looked up he fell silent. Basked in the glory of the moon’s light stood one of the few people Gabriel had ever truly let in, and suddenly he felt dwarfed by his presence, vulnerable. He understood, remembered, why he’d wanted to kill Jack and it truly had little to do with any of the shit he’d pulled; it was because Jack could unpack him with a simple gaze, shatter his defenses with a wayward smile, reduce him to an emotional mess with just a touch. Accepting Jack meant coming to terms with his humanity. Was he ready for that?

“Jack. You know this shit scares me, right?” Gabriel spoke quietly.

“What does?”

“Being together again,” Gabriel said.

“Me too. We… We have a lot to talk about,” he paused. It could all fall apart again, is what Jack was thinking, he knew. Gabriel could get angry, wall himself off, and Jack could let his thoughts ruin him and run away, “but it can wait just a little longer. Just for tonight,” Jack said. “It’s been ages Gabe. We deserve this.”

They did. They absolutely fucking did. Even when things were good their time together had to be stolen: from officials, from missions, from protocol, from the world at large. They had no such distractions now, no responsibilities other than the ones they made for themselves.

“If you still want it, that is,” Jack added.  

Gabriel accepted Jack’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled into his embrace. “The dance is yours, _cariño_.”

 

* * *

 

Jack took lead, never having forgotten how after Gabriel had taught him one night in the confines of his quarters after he’d spent most of the afternoon freaking out over an upcoming benefit dinner. He took Gabriel’s hand, and with another on his waist led him around the rooftop in a slow waltz in step to the music, their movements fluid and graceful, in tune with each other like they were used to. It was something they hadn’t been able to shatter, that synchronicity, coming from the decades they’d spent together, always at war in some form or another. It gave Jack hope at least, even though there was a lot they were both holding back for the sake of a civil evening, for the break they’d always wanted but never truly had. They needed it, and if Jack knew anything about them it’s that he and Gabriel were both greedy when it came to things they needed. With a warm smile, Jack let himself get lost in the notion and the moment it had produced, focusing on Gabriel’s face.

“I’m flattered you can still do this Jack.”

“That a quip at my age?” Jack mused. _Wouldn’t be the first I’ve heard recently…_ He briefly thought of Sombra.

Gabriel chuckled, staring at him through a fan of lashes. “Nah, it’s just that…  How often did you think about me?”

“Probably more than I should have. You know me. I have a hard time letting go of certain things, and people.” Jack said, his steps remaining sure as he spoke, “I tried, you know, but as I traveled my senses would catch little reminders of you, whether it was a scent, a sound, or a place, and I came to realize it was something I was unable to escape, so I stopped trying.” Jack’s hold on Gabriel tightened. “If I had known you were alive…”

“Jack,” Gabriel tapped his forehead. “You’re doing it again.”

 _Thinking too much. I know._ “Sorry.”

“You’re doing that again too.” Gabriel’s tone darkened slightly, “Save the apologies for later.”

Jack nodded. _No argument there._ He’d started to speak but clamped his mouth shut, nearly saying sorry again.

“It’s fine,” Gabriel said quickly. Their waltz took them across the rooftop, the Dorado skyline spinning around them as if they were the center of the city. “Guess I should have known you’d hold onto something small like this. You still have my tags, after all. It’s endearing, really.” Jack saw a smirk spread across Gabriel’s lips, “I wonder what else you remember?”

Suddenly Gabriel swapped their positions and sent Jack into a twirl. After letting out a small yet embarrassing yelp of surprise Jack, thankfully, remembered to simply follow Gabriel’s lead, keeping his balance with relative ease instead of tripping over his feet the first time they ever did this. He was quickly reeled into Gabriel, their chests knocking together, bodies flush, and almost immediately Jack found himself aroused by the sudden closeness. Whether or not Gabriel noticed he didn’t say, but his palm was flat against the small of Jack’s back, preventing him from breaking the contact, not that he wanted to.

Gabriel moved in to kiss Jack then, or at least that’s what it looked like until he veered off course, lips instead touching Jack’s earlobe. Gabriel’s voice was a whisper, “These are turning pink, Jackie. You’ve been doing that a lot tonight.”

“Shut up Gabe,” Jack said, but his ears were getting hotter along with the feeling in his groin. Gabriel had always been the only one who could really make him react like that so consistently, on both accounts. “You act like I’ve been doing it on purpose.”

“I wouldn’t argue if you were,” he said, dropping Jack into a dip.

Jack felt Gabriel’s thigh wedge itself between his legs, skimming the fabric of his suit pants. If Gabriel even remotely still had the notion to try to kill him, this was a good way to go about it. Stuck in the position of hanging above the rooftop supported only by Gabriel’s arm, Jack was forced to bring one of his legs up against Gabriel’s, bending it so his foot was against the other man’s knee. Gabriel leaned down, and Jack saw the flash of something familiar swirling within those pools of crimson: desire. His face moved closer to Jack’s, but stopped suddenly when they heard a beeping noise.

Their noses were touching when he pulled back a bit, and the scowl that overtook Gabriel’s features looked positively wicked, though his irritation was clear. “Jack, if you don’t shut that watch off I’m going to crush it.”

Jack didn’t answer as the alarm died on its own. “Hey Gabe,” Jack reached up and buried his fingers in Gabriel’s curls. “Do you remember your first mission to Hong Kong?”

“Yes…?  I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” He watched Gabriel’s eyes widen as the sky around them exploded in bursts of vibrant colors and shapes, light dancing over the dark fabric of their suits.

Jack remembered, and, as they remained frozen in place, he figured Gabriel did too.

 

* * *

 

Jack’s phone rang, which made him jump at his desk and nearly spill the quart of Chinese takeout he’d ordered as a late lunch. When he managed to pick it up he was greeted by the thunderous pops of multiple explosions.

“Gabe?” he said immediately, “What’s going on?” Worry quickly seeped into his tone. Gabriel had been late with his usual check-in call and Jack had been staring at the clock counting the minutes.

“Hey hold on, I can’t hear you.” The sounds became more distant and after a moment he heard Gabriel’s voice again, “Relax, _cariño_ , it’s only fireworks. I’ll be sending you a video in a sec.”

“Oh,” Jack said, feeling foolish then.

“Sorry I’m late. Lost track of the time…” his voice trailed off momentarily. “Mission’s done. We’ll be heading back to Zürich in the morning.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Mmm…”

“Gabe…?”

“Nothing. I uh, was just watching the fireworks, thinking about you. You always said you liked them, seeing them at the State Fairs and all when you were a kid. I never saw what the big deal was, but for you, I figured I’d give it another shot.” He heard Gabriel sigh. “They just made me miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too, Gabi.”

Gabriel chuckled. “I wish you could see these Jackie. You’d love them.”

“I’d love them even more if we were watching them together,” Jack said.

“Me too. Maybe someday.”

“Yeah, someday,” Jack said wistfully.

 

* * *

 

 _Jack, you’re something else,_ Gabriel thought, righting Jack as he pulled him in for a hug, burying his head in Jack’s shoulder, feeling the sudden need to hide. “That was… over twenty years ago.”

“I know. We never did get around to watching them together, like so many other things. I want to make up for it.”

Gabriel didn’t budge, “You’re such a fucking sap Jack.”

“Now who’s embarrassed?”

“ _Cállate_.”

“Hey.”

Gabriel lifted his head slightly. Jack was wearing the _dumbest_ romantic smile and Gabriel was only vaguely aware of how smoke was pouring off his body in rapid waves. Only Jack Morrison would remember a suggestion from that long ago and decide to make it a reality. He didn’t deserve that level of thoughtfulness, of kindness after what he did to Jack, and Gabriel, knowing how pissed he was going to be when they finally got around to talking about Jack’s bullshit, which Jack _had_ to be aware of, only made him feel worse... _Why are you still treating me like I matter?_

“Gabriel. Did you want to watch or keep dancing?”

He kept staring at Jack, and slowly dissolved, but he didn’t leave. Instead he reformed to sit on the edge of the roof overlooking the water where the fireworks were being launched off a boat far offshore. He threw his hood up as if it would actually protect him from what he knew was Jack’s concerned gaze. It was making Gabriel paranoid.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked.

Did Jack suggest this night because he really wanted to reconcile, or was Gabriel just going to get hurt again? It was a certainty, wasn’t it? More pain. That’s all Gabriel existed for. Jack was going to destroy him again… But, if that was true, why did Gabriel agree to any of this? Why was he even bothering to make an effort, like he wanted to fix them too? _Because you make me feel alive again Jack, even if that’s no longer possible, and I remember how much I ached for you even when I was cursing your name. I still want you, and I hope everything you did tonight wasn’t just a lie._

“Come sit with me,” Gabriel said quietly.

He heard the soft footfalls of Jack’s loafers. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t.” _Not this time. It’s just me._ “Behind me. I want to get comfortable.” He felt Jack’s presence as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his midsection, pulling him back against Jack’s chest, legs on either side of him. Gabriel let himself relax, slumping down a bit, and Jack’s chin fell softly against his head.

Neither of them spoke anymore, enjoying the weight of each other’s company. They stared out at the night sky above the calm seas, taking in a moment they’d waited a lifetime for.

**END CHAPTER 13**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write. Not a lot to say about it other than I enjoy working with complex characters. The next chapter has sexually explicit content (and feelings and plot). It may be delayed just because, uh, I've never written that sort of thing before, and I'm going to probably be a perfectionist about it.
> 
> I love chatting with people in the comments, so don't be afraid to leave one.


	14. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night's still young.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does contain explicit sexual content.

The fireworks had ended a while ago, but they hadn’t wanted to move from their peaceful position on the roof. Jack was content with how the night had gone. Neither of them had really damaged one another further, nor had they broken down into the emotional equivalents of shipwrecks. Jack felt this was a good start, and maybe they actually had a chance at mending things between them to some level of functionality.

In order to give it a fair shot he’d thrown a lot of the caution he’d garnered as Soldier 76 away. Jack had become a vigilante to keep people at at arms-length, to stop them from getting hurt, and to keep from being burdened by any more guilt, but there was nothing that felt worse than what he’d done to the man in his arms. Jack himself had been betrayed by people he’d trusted in the name of doing what he thought was the right thing, and because of that knew better than anyone what Gabriel was going through. He’d be there for Gabriel, even if Gabriel decided he no longer wanted Jack. He owed him that much, and Jack had always been weak for Gabriel Reyes.  

“You were right,” Gabriel murmured.

“Hm?”

“It really was better watching them with you.”

Jack squeezed him and Gabriel’s hand was on his wrist then, squeezing back. “Alejandra and her mother are going to be back soon,” Jack said.

“We should leave then. Don’t want my face scaring a kid.”

“We?” Jack smirked a little, glad Gabriel couldn’t see him. “Did you want to go somewhere?”

“I assumed you had a place in mind Jack, unless you’re itching to go back to that stiff as fuck safe house bed.”

Jack chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say something like that. We _do_ have a hotel room, courtesy of Sombra.”

He heard Gabriel scoff. “Oh, she _would_.”

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to though.” Jack spoke quickly. “I’m not going to pressure you into anything.” Gabriel was silent so Jack kept talking, the awkwardness bothering him too much, “If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

Gabriel tiled his head back and Jack peered down at him. “I stayed this long. Night’s still young, you know, and it’s not like I didn’t notice how you got hard when I dipped you.”

Jack tried his damnedest not to blush again. “That obvious, huh?”

“More obvious than you in that Soldier 76 get up.”

“You’re really not going to let that one go, are you?”

“I didn’t accept your shitty fashion sense before I died, and I’m certainly not going to start being forgiving of it now.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “And this coming from the guy who dresses like every day is Halloween.”

“Every day is Halloween _cabrón,_ and I’m the fucking Pumpkin King.” Gabriel snorted. “Don’t know what world you’re living in.”

 _Hopefully one where we can work things out._ Jack hummed to himself, knowing that was likely pretty far off.

“Jack?”

“So you’re alright with us going then, to the hotel I mean?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t have to have sex,” Jack said.

“That’s usually what happens when we’re alone in the same room together,” Gabriel said frankly.

Jack sighed. “Gabe,” he recalled Gabriel’s reaction to his first, admittedly ill-timed advance, which had come out of a desperate longing that he’d since reined in, “I mean it. If you’re not comfortable we can just be together and watch a movie or something. It’s important to me that you’re okay.” _It really is._

Gabriel went quiet for a moment, and Jack felt his shoulders slump against him. His tone was low, soft, and Jack could barely hear it shaking, “Just don’t change your opinion of me. Don’t be afraid of me.”

His hold around Gabriel tightened, and Jack hoped he was being reassuring. “I don’t fear you.” _I can’t. I won’t. Please believe me._ “I promise.” Hollow words coming from him, he was sure, aware of how little they must be worth.

A forced sigh escaped Gabriel. “Let’s get off this roof,” he said, turning to smoke. Jack momentarily felt panicked by the absence until he noticed Gabriel had reformed beside him, offering a hand. It was going to take him a bit to get used to that.

“Sure,” Jack took it and Gabriel helped him up. “Let me return everything and change out of this suit.”

Gabriel nodded. “I’ll meet you behind the building in ten then. And Jack…”

“Yeah?”

With a strong tug, Gabriel pulled him in for a kiss. He was unmistakably warm, blazing even, lips rough and scarred, the old taste of cinnamon and aftershave replaced with ash and smoke and gunpowder, but to Jack it wasn’t stale or bitter, just the new taste of home. Jack took a deep breath through his mouth as they separated and exhaled Gabriel’s smoke just as smoothly.

“Don’t…” Gabriel’s eyes all blinked, “take too long.” Jack inwardly grinned at the look of surprise plastered across Gabriel’s features.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jack offered him a wave before he packed everything back up into the picnic basket and headed into the building.

He returned the loaned items, leaving a note for Alejandra and Carmen further expressing his gratitude, then went into the apartment above the shop to change out of the suit and into a set of clothes he’d brought with him. Jack snuck out the back door, a duffle bag with his Solder 76 gear and the rest of the assorted belongings he’d gathered from his own safe house slung over his shoulder.

“You look like a tourist,” Gabriel said, leaning against the wall near the door. He was still in his suit.

“That’s the idea.” Jack faced him and pulled down the brim of a red baseball cap. He’d put his combat boots on, but they were mostly hidden under a pair of worn jeans that were comfortably too big.

“Wait,” Gabriel stepped forward, tugging on the grey hoodie Jack was wearing. “Is that one of mine?”

“Might be,” Jack cleared his throat.

“ _Might_ be?” All of Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.

Jack shrugged. “Found it on a visit to the New York Watchpoint, what was left of it.”

“You didn’t happen to find one of my hats did you?”

“No,” Jack shook his head. “And can’t you just make one?”

“I could,” Gabriel folded his arms, “but it’s absolutely not the same thing. You wouldn’t get it.”

Jack laughed and patted Gabriel on the shoulder. “Sure Gabe, whatever you say.”

Gabriel grumbled. “Where did she book us?”

“ _El Gran Hotel de Dorado_ ,” Jack replied. “I’m supposed to check in. You can follow and meet me in the room, okay?”

Gabriel nodded. He looked like he had something he wanted to say, but instead ushered Jack forward with a few flicks of his fingers. Jack decided he wasn’t going to question it. If Gabriel had something to tell him, he would, and all of this, whatever this was, had to be on Gabriel’s terms, and Jack was wholly prepared to give him that courtesy.

 

* * *

The Dorado Grand Hotel was probably too ritzy for either of their standards, reception in the middle of a towering atrium that was all glass and gold. The building was used to dignitaries, bloated millionaires, and suits working with LumériCo, so saying Jack looked out of place was a gross understatement, and Gabriel briefly wondered how many people Sombra had bribed to keep from asking questions about an old man in street clothes getting a room in a place like this. Gabriel supposed it wasn’t more than he could afford (which undoubtedly was how Sombra was paying for it), but after living in darkness and bathing in blood for so long it was more than he deserved, just like Jack was. From a shadowed corner Gabriel, a shadow himself, eyed Jack as he spoke to a bright-eyed receptionist who handed him a keycard.

 _Flirt…_ Gabriel huffed, though not entirely serious. Jack exchanged bright smiles with the woman behind the counter, laughing and scratching the back of his head. He nodded once to her, and with a wave turned and headed for the elevators. Jack stepped inside, and the doors hadn’t even closed before Gabriel was beside him, having shadow stepped his way in.

“You are embarrassing,” Gabriel noted with a quirked brow, arms folded. He glanced at the elevator camera aware Sombra would have that under control, and assumed she was watching. Sombra wasn’t one to break her word when he actually convinced her to give it, but he supposed a quick check-in somewhere public wasn’t against their agreement, and he tipped his chin towards the camera just in case.

Jack pressed the button for the top floor. “Oh, c’mon Gabe, I was just being polite,” he bumped his hip into Gabriel’s. “I’m in a good mood. It’s been a while.”

 _I am too. I’m just…_ Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut. _Nervous as all hell._

“Gabe?” There was concern in Jack’s tone and Gabriel felt a hand land on his bicep.

Gabriel looked at Jack and smiled. “I’m okay. Better, even. I’m a bit overwhelmed is all, Jackie.” _Terrified. Excited. Fucking feels like the first time we decided to have sex… like I’m a nervous god damn teenager or some shit._

“You don’t have to be, like I said before we–”

“Jack,” he snapped. Gabriel didn’t mean to. He knew Jack was being supportive of him because Gabriel couldn’t even be supportive of himself, and he appreciated it more than he could say. It had been a while since anyone had given a damn; he just wasn’t used to it, not anymore, but tonight had reminded him how much he missed that concern, that compassion, among other things. With a forearm across Jack’s chest, he pushed him into the side of the elevator, red eyes meeting blue. “I want you tonight.” The elevator doors started to open but Gabriel slammed the heel of his palm against the controls to stop them. “No matter how I look outwardly, and regardless of what happens, that’s still going to hold true.” Gabriel’s arm fell. “Does it for you?”

“Yes Gabriel. Without a doubt.” Jack pressed a button and the door opened. “Still, if you need to take it slow, we will.”

In response Gabriel grabbed Jack’s wrist and led him out of the elevator with a tug. “Which one’s our room?”

“Very end.” Jack was barely able to stifle laughter.

Gabriel’s fingers brushed Jack’s palm as their hands slotted together, and they walked down the hall in step with one another. When they reached the end Jack put the keycard into the slot and pushed the door open.

“Oh… wow,” Jack said.

“Did Sombra really…” Gabriel almost face-palmed. “Of course, of course she did.”

“So this is the Honeymoon suite, huh.”

The room was expansive, to say the least. Across from them was a canopy bed with cream-colored sheets, matching curtains drawn around the bedposts, and plush silk pillows against a tall, tufted headboard. Spread across the comforter was dozens of fresh rose petals, red like blood, like Gabriel’s eyes. Adjacent to the bed, built into the corner was a hot tub with steps and gold-plated railings. A set of towels had been laid out for them, and, near the steps, was a small folding table with a gift bag and a card embossed with a neon purple _calavera._

Gabriel headed over to it, hearing Jack set his bag down on the carpet as the door shut, and plucked the card from the table. His eyes narrowed as he read it.

“What’s it say?” Gabriel could feel Jack’s breath against his neck, but didn’t turn to address the man peeking over his shoulder. Instead he picked up the gift bag and peered into it. He initially scoffed, though it quickly turned into a chuckle. “Hey Jackie, you been with anyone since the last time we did anything?”

“No, just my right hand,” Jack replied and Gabriel was certain he was blushing again.

“Me neither. Don’t need these then,” Gabriel fished a string of condom packets out of the bag with his claws, folded them, and chucked them over his shoulder. “This is good though,” he held up a bottle of lube for Jack to see. “The cooling kind.” He wasn’t sure the difference it would make given how much heat his body put off, but it was a nice thought. He was glad the lube was otherwise normal, the memory of the time he and Jack had tried the flavored stuff in their younger years popping into his head then. He smiled. Jack had insisted on candy apple while Gabriel had suggested a strawberry flavor of a different brand. Jack won out, of course (he was the one who’d wanted to give the blowjob, after all), and then complained no more than five seconds after finishing about the aftertaste, a complaint which went on for weeks no matter how much coffee he drank or how many times he brushed his teeth. _Worst idea ever._

“Anything else in there?”

Gabriel snorted and turned, tossing Jack a bottle of pills, which he caught.

“Rivapril?” Jack scrunched his nose. “Pain killers, really? Isn’t this stuff illegal?”

“Very. Could put an elephant into a coma. Might work for your creaking bones though _viejo_ ,” Gabriel said with a smirk, pointing at him with two fingers, forgetting about the card between them.

Jack snatched it before Gabriel could stop him, reading it aloud, Spanish near perfect. “ _‘Don’t break him too badly Gabriel. There’s no one else on this floor – I bought out all of the rooms –, but I know what he’s like, and what you’re into, at least from the text records I pulled from your old cell phones. Let me know if you want me to send you any of the attached pictures. Have fun boys. –Sombra.’”_ Jack blinked. “Gabe, what does she mean?”

Gabriel lifted the last item from the bag: a leather gag with a shiny red rubber ball. “Mmm, guess she found out you’re a screamer.”

He watched Jack’s pale skin flush, the tent of his pants painfully obvious at the sight of the gag. It was never difficult to get Jack riled up over the kinky shit, and just seeing the effect on Jack was more than enough for Gabriel. It was something Jack had developed during their relationship, and didn’t start to pop up until he became Strike Commander. It was the stress, Gabriel knew. Jack grew tired of always being responsible for everything and everyone that he just wanted to let go and be taken care of for once. Gabriel had been more than happy to oblige, feeling he had little control of many aspects of his life at the time, and had had the need to regain some in the bedroom. Their relationship was fine then, even if Gabriel had been scorned by the promotion. He regretted letting it build to anger, even more so because he’d let that anger fester, rotting him from the inside. Gabriel had hurt Jack a lot over the years, and though it had been a back and forth of mutual destruction, he still felt guilty. _But I have a chance to set things right, don’t I?_

Gabriel put the gag down on the table, doing the same with the pill bottle. “Maybe we’ll use it later,” he said, tossing the lube on the bed. “For now, let’s take advantage of having the floor to ourselves.” He pressed his chest into Jack’s, a hand moving to his erection, thumb rubbing firmly across the rough fabric of his jeans.

Jack shuddered, breath hitching, “Gabe…”

“I’d like to hear you tonight, _cariño_. Those lovely noises you make…” Gabriel started massaging Jack’s cock with his fingertips. Jack slowly rutted into his touch, arms wrapping around Gabriel’s waist as he let out a mix between a gasp and a whimper. “It’s been too long.” _All of this has. How did I forget this?_

“You have no idea how much I missed you Gabriel,” Jack said, digging his fingers into Gabriel’s back and Gabriel could almost hear the echo of Jack’s thoughts: _You were dead_. _I lost you forever._ “I thought of you, of your hands on me, your lips, your tongue, every time I touched myself. Please, Gabe, I need you.” His voice fell to a whisper, raising a knee so it rested against Gabriel’s hip, sandwiching his hand between both of their clothed cocks. “I need you.”

To be needed. To hear someone, to hear _Jack_ , say he needed Gabriel, sent a chill up his spine, and a feeling of lust, of his God damn humanity, straight to his dick. “On the bed,” he commanded, guiding Jack backwards so he landed on top of it. Gabriel knocked Jack’s stupid baseball cap off when he pulled the stolen hoodie over his head, taking his t-shirt with it, dog tags falling against his pecs. Jack wiggled his arms loose while Gabriel bent down, standing at the foot of the bed, peppering kisses across Jack’s abs and over the thatch of wiry white hair that crept up to his navel, pausing pausing as his mind supplied the memory of a smell, of Jack’s heady, masculine scent that he wished to, but couldn’t partake in.

Jack, like him, was the result of his battles, hardened torso a map of scars. Some Gabriel didn’t recognize. Others he knew far too well. Gabriel tried to ignore their stories, undoing Jack’s jeans and forcing them off over his boots, but as his entire body buzzed with anticipation, electricity surging through his decaying skin, his eyes fell on a scar in Jack’s side: a freshly healed five-point puncture.

 _I did that._ Without thinking Gabriel brushed his hand over the raised flesh. Jack needed him? How could he? He’d hurt Jack… Gabriel was hideous both inside and out. _How could anyone need a monster?_

“Gabriel? Hey…” He’d done a lousy job hiding his thoughts because Jack sat up then, legs hanging over the edge of the bed, gripping Gabriel’s biceps. His tone was serious. “Talk to me.”

Gabriel shook his head. He was stupid. So very stupid.

Jack scooted back to the center of the bed, quickly shucking his boots off. He sat in his underwear with his legs out, and motioned to the space he’d created between them. Gabriel reluctantly accepted, sitting on his knees though he was still fully dressed in his suit.

“How can you need me?” He said quietly. Need. Different than want. A want could change on a whim. A need was unquestionable, and Gabriel didn’t feel worthy.

“Because you were, and hopefully still are, everything that’s right in my fucked up world, Gabriel.” Jack placed a strong, burn-scarred hand on Gabriel’s thigh. “I worry about you. I know what self-hatred is. I wouldn’t wish those feelings on anyone, especially not on someone I–” he paused. Gabriel knew what he’d planned to say, but there was doubt, in both of their minds, if either should. “I care for deeply. That’s not going to change no matter what form you take, no matter how much of you rots before my eyes, no matter what your abilities can do.” Jack leaned in and kissed his forehead. “You’re beautiful Gabe.” He kissed his brow. “Every,” Gabriel closed his eyes and Jack kissed one of the extra eyelids, “last,” he kissed the twisted scar tissue near the hole in his face, “bit of you.” He kissed his lips. “If anyone’s the monster between the two of us, it’s me. I brought this upon you with my selfishness, my inability to let you go after even after I’d abandoned you. If you had succeeded in devouring my soul, you would have been justified in doing so. I hurt you badly.”

“Jack…” he shook his head. _You did, but even you didn’t deserve that._ “I’m not…” he stared at the bed, “worth your time.”

Jack sighed, idly rubbing Gabriel’s thigh. “I don’t think that.”

 _Do you really, though?_ His mind couldn’t help but return to the worst points of their relationship, to when he was ignored no matter how much he’d wanted not to be. He grasped the comforter with his claws, tearing it.

“Gabriel,” Jack slowly reached out to touch him, placing a hand on his chest. Gabriel flinched and Jack drew back. “I know what it is you don’t want me to see.”

His claws dug into the mattress. He still wasn’t looking at Jack. He couldn’t. Gabriel didn’t want to Jack to continue his line of thought, but he wasn’t going to stop him.

“You said you actually died.”

He spoke barely above a whisper, “I did.”

“You were autopsied.”

Gabriel was silent, still.

“I felt it beneath your shirt,” Jack added. Gabriel felt him squeeze his thigh, then that hand left him too. “Does it really bother you that much if I already know it’s there?”

“It’s not just that,” Gabriel said, his body changing under the suit with the slow creep of fear. He turned his head slightly to see Jack smiling at him, which made him feel worse.

Jack slid off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked.

He bent down to grab his discarded jeans. “Getting dressed.” Jack motioned to the projector in the ceiling with a nod. “Going to see what’s on the holocaster. Maybe find one of those terrible horror movies you always liked.”

Gabriel appeared in front of Jack in a flurry of darkness, taking his wrist to stop him from putting his pants back on. “I said I wanted you.”

“You did, and I said I wasn’t going to force you into anything you were uncomfortable with.” Jack was sincere, no anger or disappointment in his tone, only understanding. “And you are uncomfortable.”

“And I’m not about to have you tell me what I can and can’t do,” he snapped. Jack tensed as if he’d tacked the words ‘Strike Commander’ on the end of his sentence.   _Shit._ He didn’t mean it like that.

Jack took a deep breath, no doubt staying his own anxieties, and stepped forward into Gabriel’s space, a hand falling on the side his neck, rubbing the muscle soothingly. Gabriel didn’t object, reflexively leaning into the touch. Jack was always great at massage, and his body still knew it. “Sombra has this place booked out for the next week. She wasn’t sure how much time we were going to need, so I told her to err on the side of caution. She pulled a few favors to free up your schedule with Talon.” Jack paused as if he’d wanted to press that matter further. Thankfully, he thought better of it. “What I’m saying Gabe, is that we _can_ take it slow. I meant it when I said it before.”

“I know you did.” He did, right? Gabriel shook his head, ignoring the concern building on Jack’s face. He couldn’t let Jack see him. It would be a turning point. Everything Jack had said and done so far would just be a lie, and he’d leave again, like he always did. He’d see everything that Gabriel was and he’d want no part of it. _Who would?_

“You have a choice Gabe, and you’re right: it’s yours to make.”

Could Gabriel really handle slow though? Drawing it out would only increase his apprehensions, make him anticipate the worst for longer… He knew too well what that did, having seen Jack do it to himself more times than he cared to recall. He let Jack go and sat on the edge of the bed. His coat, tie, and vest turned to smoke, pulling across the room to reappear folded on the small table. “Go ahead.”

Jack faced him and nodded once. He straddled Gabriel, sitting on his lap, hands deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Jack’s eyes remained on his face, not on his chest, and Gabriel shuddered when his burn scarred palm landed on his bare sternum, pressing against the autopsy scar. “It’s alright, Gabriel,” Jack assured.

“It’s not,” Gabriel shook his head, keeping eye contact with Jack, pleading for him to stay, to keep his hand where it was. Jack obeyed. “It… It brings back so many things I wish I could forget.”

“Then I’ll give you new things to remember,” Jack said, kissing him. “You’re not alone anymore Gabriel, and won’t be if I have anything to say about it.”

“You haven’t looked yet.” _That opinion could change._

Jack spread Gabriel’s shirt apart, rolling it off his shoulders so it hung around his elbows. Gabriel couldn’t help but glance down. Jack examined the autopsy scar with his fingers, tracing the Y-incision down to his navel, where a small part of the scar had opened, revealing a row of teeth. Jack didn’t react, and moved to other scars, some of which were split, billowing dark smoke. A few contained eyes like the ones on his face; vicious red on black, their gazes following Jack’s movements. There were necrotic holes in Gabriel’s skin, healing only to sporadically shift location and reopen again.

“Say something,” Gabriel said, voice cracking. “Anything.”

Jack hugged him then, his hold tight, his strong hand gripping the back of Gabriel’s head, keeping him close. “It’s okay Gabe. I’m not leaving.”

 _But you could._ Gabriel gripped him, claws digging into Jack’s shoulder blades. “Jack…”

“I’m with you.”

 _Why are you?_ But Gabriel knew the answer. He felt like he was going to cry, and retreated, trying to bury his face against Jack’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Jack stroked the back of Gabriel’s head. “Nothing at all.”

Gabriel broke then, sobbing into Jack. It was a lie. It had to be. There was so much wrong with him and yet… and yet… Jack was still there, holding him, telling him it was going to be alright somehow. He hadn’t reacted in fear. He hadn’t run away. He was… still with him. Gabriel wasn’t alone anymore. _But you will be._ He clutched Jack tighter.

“I’m right here Gabe, right here.”

Jack let him cry, and it took some time for Gabriel to regain his senses, eyes widening when he realized what he was doing to Jack. “Shit,” he pulled his claws out. They were coated in blood. “Jack, why didn’t you say something?”

Jack only smiled at him.

 _You idiot._ He knew what Jack was doing: putting Gabriel’s needs above his own to an unhealthy degree. He cared so much about Gabriel he’d forgotten himself. “Turn around.”

He obeyed, still on Gabriel’s lap, leaning forward. “Upset with me?” his tone had no inflection.

 _Of course I’m fucking upset with you Jack, but I’m more upset with me_. “I just wish you’d take better care of yourself.” He pressed his nose against the base of Jack’s neck, “I’m sorry. These are deep.”

“It’s alright. I barely felt it.”

“Jack.”

“I’m okay Gabe.”

Gabriel lifted his head, brushing his claws against the wounds. A stream of nanites drifted off the tips to close them and remove the blood. Gabriel kissed Jack’s healed skin. “This, and worse, is what I was afraid would happen…”

“It was an accident.”

“Like me almost devouring your soul?”

Jack fell silent.

“Why did we think this could work?” Gabriel said.

“Because we want it to,” Jack replied, waiting for Gabriel to deny him. He didn’t even try. “We’re a dangerous pair, always have been, and I know we’re going to hurt each other, but to get past that point, well, it’s something I’m willing to work towards.”

“How can you trust we’ll get there, or even trust me?”

Jack chuckled and turned, throwing his arms over Gabriel’s shoulders. “One of us has to.” The bastard was beaming, and it made Gabriel feel lighter.

“Alright.” He nodded once, and couldn’t help but smile too. _Yes, this is worth fighting for._

“So, how about we stop thinking for a while, hm?”

“Read my mind.”

Accepting of Gabriel’s permission, Jack’s hand fell to his crotch where he took hold of Gabriel’s cock as best he could through the fabric of his pants, fingers hooking beneath to massage his balls. Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath, remembering how much he loved it when Jack touched him, skin prickling beneath the sensation, becoming a craving. Without delay the rest of his clothes dissolved from his form, joining the other garments on the table. 

Jack intently stroked him with one hand and traced a finger over the autopsy scar with the other. He trailed kisses along the pronounced scar and ran his tongue into the grooves that once housed stitching, as if he felt Gabriel needed further assurance that he wasn’t bothered by it. Jack’s thumb pressed against the head of Gabriel’s cock, into his slit, and Gabriel let out a soft moan.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you Gabriel,” he said, blue peering at Gabriel through a fan of lashes.

Gabriel slid his hands beneath Jack’s ass then lifted him up and flipped him onto his back as he placed him on the bed. Jack let out a small cry of surprise. Gabriel climbed on top of him, hovering above him. “And what makes you think you get to be in charge?” He leaned down to kiss Jack’s neck, his throat, his chiseled jawline.

Jack shuddered beneath him, his cock hard, at attention against his abs, beads of precum dribbling down the head. “Gabe… please…”

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

“Mmm, not yet.” Gabriel touched his lips to Jack’s ear, gently tugging at the lobe with his teeth. He caressed Jack’s teeth and jaw with his knuckles, tone serious for a moment. “If there’s anything you don’t like, tell me. I haven’t done anything with this body yet.”

Jack nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” Gabriel situated himself between Jack’s legs. His black tongue flicked out of his mouth. He slowly dragged it across the inside of Jack’s thigh, eliciting a whine when Gabriel stopped to suck Jack’s skin, barely scarred there and still as soft as he remembered. He wished he could taste Jack, but seeing his delightful reactions would have to do instead.

“Gabe,” Jack said, hips squirming at the prickle of Gabriel’s beard, “don’t tease me damn it.”

“Impatient.” Gabriel chuckled, ignoring Jack’s twitching cock in favor of sucking a bruise into the opposite thigh. Jack gasped, back arcing slightly when Gabriel pressed his teeth in just enough to break the skin.

“Fuck,” he said, cockhead flushing a needy shade of pink. It twitched again.

“Glad you’re still into that,” Gabriel mused, spitting into his palm and licking between his fingers as he took Jack’s cock to lazily pump it, using his tongue to play with Jack’s balls. He pressed the tip into the firm orbs, feeling Jack’s legs tremble on either side of him. He pulled on the skin of Jack’s sac with his lips, sucking on it, taking some into his own mouth before opening wider to engulf one of his balls. Gabriel reveled in the sounds Jack was making as his cheek hollowed and he worked his tongue against what he’d taken; the small gasps and drawn out moans increasing his own arousal, somehow feeling hotter than the furnace he was normally. And he felt it _everywhere_ , as if each nanite was responding to the promise of pleasure.

“Just… ah… get on with it.”

He released Jack with a lewd pop, leaving a wet trail as he dragged his tongue upwards to wrap around the base of his cock. Gabriel hadn’t noticed how long the slick appendage was before that point, looking a bit more like a tentacle than it should, and made a quick mental note of potential uses as his hands settled firmly on Jack’s hips. His eyes flicked upwards, noticing he was being stared at. “What?”

Gabriel didn’t give Jack time to reply. He took Jack into his mouth, squeezing the shaft with his tongue as he moved it in tandem with the bob of his head. Jack squirmed beneath him, the constriction driving him mad, but his efforts to escape did little with Gabriel pressing him down into the mattress. He felt the head of Jack’s cock hit the the roof of his mouth each time, and gave it a good, strong suck whenever he came back up, a heavy wet sound echoing through the room with Jack’s rising moans.

“Gabe, f-f-fuck. More, Gabriel… please, I want more.” Jack’s hand grabbed onto his head, fingers tangling in his curls.

 _Since you asked so nicely…_ His tongue unraveled, and he licked up Jack’s length to play with the tip, pressing it into his slit. Gabriel took Jack deeper then, into the back of his throat, every inch of Jack’s long cock inside of his mouth, lips kissing the base, nose nuzzled in his pubic hair. Gabriel no longer had a gag reflex. _Unsurprising_. Not like he’d ever have to worry about choking to death in his current body.

He felt Jack’s hips buck slightly, and Gabriel, receptive to what he wanted, let him go. Unable to contain himself at the new discovery, Jack started fucking into his mouth. Gabriel created a barrier with this tongue between Jack’s cock and his bottom teeth, ensuring his mouth was open wide. Gabriel dug his claws into Jack’s thigh, fondling his balls with his other hand. Gabriel didn’t touch himself however, wanting nothing more than to make the man beneath him happy. While he knew he could get himself off, as watching Jack come undone was utterly intoxicating – his flushed cheeks, his panting breaths, the rhythm of his pounding heart coursing through his veins, knowing Gabriel, and only Gabriel was responsible for the lovely mess he’d become – he didn’t want his first time in years to be be by his own hand.

“Gabe,” Jack spoke between breaths and heated moans, “I’m close. God… I’m so close. Can I?”

Gabriel gave him a quick nod.

Jack groaned loudly, hold tightening. He thrust harder, faster, pulling at Gabriel’s hair like it was the only thing keeping him grounded and the fingers of his other hand dug into the bedspread, crushing rose petals. “Gabriel!”

His entire back arced off the mattress, digging in his heels as he cried out. Jack shook and Gabriel felt cum splash his throat, and he slid a hand to the small of Jack’s back, forcing him to remain where he was as he sucked Jack dry. Caught on the tail end of orgasm, Gabriel didn’t give Jack any reprieve, proceeding to toy with Jack’s oversensitive cockhead before his tongue wrapped around Jack’s length again.

“Gabe, what are you… ah…!” Jack’s whimpers of protest fell on deaf ears.

Gabriel moved with fervor, Jack twitching in his grip, head thrown to the side as he tried to bury it in a pillow. Jack’s knees bent, but Gabriel kept him there, riding that edge until another shockwave crashed through Jack’s body and he came a second time, screaming in both pleasure and overstimulated pain. Gabriel released him then, lowering him back onto the bed while licking his lips.

“You’re… you’re a bastard,” Jack said weakly, unmoving but looking completely blissed out.   

“The good kind I hope.”

Jack smiled at him, “C’mere.”

Gabriel slid up the bed to lay beside Jack, throwing an arm around him and pulling him into his chest. Jack nuzzled him, pushing up under his chin. He felt Jack’s fingers brush his cock, which was still very, noticeably hard.

“Let me take care of you.”

“In a few,” Gabriel said.

“Oh no, I’m not taking a break,” Jack protested.

“You just came, twice. In. A. Row. You’re tired Jack.”

Jack scoffed. “I’ve been tired for years Gabriel. This is the first time I’ve had reason to truly be awake.” He pressed a hand against Gabriel’s chest and sat up. “I may have aged, but I’m still a super soldier. My stamina’s legendary.”

Gabriel scoffed. “You still look exhausted, and you’re shaking.”

 Jack, stubborn as always, straddled him, sitting on Gabriel’s torso. Gabriel felt his cock slide up against the cleft of Jack’s ass and Jack grinned. “Still want me to rest?” Jack started slowly rocking his hips.

 _No Jack, no I fucking don’t._ Gabriel gasped, and Jack leaned down to crush their lips together into a messy, aggressive kiss. Tongues met in dance, teeth pressed into swollen flesh, Jack’s shuddering breath mingled with Gabriel’s smoke as Gabriel grabbed Jack’s ass, spreading him, kneading him beneath his clawed fingers.

“I want to feel you,” Jack said into Gabriel’s mouth as he broke the kiss, reaching for the bottle of lube.

A groan escaped Gabriel’s lips at the thought, squeezing Jack harder, grinding slowly beneath him. Jack smiled, playful, expectant, and coated his fingers with lube. 

* * *

 

Jack was tight, even tighter than he thought as he slid one of his slicked fingers into his hole. He’d normally let Gabriel do this part, but he wasn’t too keen on him trying with those claws, not yet anyway. Jack sucked in a deep, shaking breath as he scissored himself open, adding a second finger. He tried to concentrate on what he was doing, tried not to think about how much he wanted to tell Gabriel he loved him. He’d never stopped, really, and the words nearly tumbled out then, as they’d tried to several times before that evening, but the fear of him ruining their rocky start kept them at bay, but just barely. He pushed his fingers in deeper, letting his mind blank.

“Mmm, hurry up Jackie,” Gabriel maintained the slow, needy pace of his thrusts, rubbing his firm cock against Jack’s ass. Jack continued to smile, allowing himself to affix on Gabriel’s burning gaze, lust churning in those pools of red. Jack’s own cock hardened again at the knowledge that Gabriel missed him, needed him, as much as he did.

He inserted a third finger, ensuring he was properly stretched before he squirted more lube into his palm, lathering it on Gabriel’s cock. Jack then lined Gabriel up with his entrance, and slid himself down, taking the time to allow himself to adjust to the welcome intrusion.

“Jack. Holy fuck,” Gabriel’s head pressed into the pillows, eyes to the canopy above the bed, “you’re so tight.”

Jack clenched around him as he pushed further, rumble of a moan escaping Gabriel. He’d forgotten how thick Gabriel was, how his girth pushed the limits of Jack’s inner walls, and he felt his eyes start to well up, knowing there was no one else who could give him such a complete feeling of fullness quite like the man inside him.

“I missed you Gabriel. I fucking missed you,” Gabriel was fully hilted, and Jack was about to move when Gabriel did it for him. Jack cried out at the sudden push of Gabriel’s cock, the head slamming into his prostate on the first try, hitting that bundle of nerves just right. Gabriel hadn’t missed a beat.

“I did too Jackie,” his claws dug into Jack’s flesh, thrusting beneath him, “ _Dios_ , I did too.” Gabriel’s thrusts became more forceful and the room was filled with a chorus of Jack’s cries and pants, Gabriel’s grunts, and the slap of skin on skin.

It was everything Jack remembered, and everything he wanted: Gabriel deep inside, the physical connection after years of separation blossoming into indescribable warmth that spread through his body in a blaze. It reminded him of how he’d lost Gabriel. It reminded him of how, against all logic, against all odds, he’d found him again. It was almost too much. Jack’s head fell back, moving with the rhythm of Gabriel’s thrusts as claws pierced his skin.

He didn’t care. White crept around the edges of his vision, Gabriel slamming into him again and again, and Jack was only tangentially aware of the fact he was being touched elsewhere. Hands of shadow grabbed his wrists, pulling him back further as Gabriel drove deeper, stars exploding before him, Jack’s own screams of pleasure filling his ears. More hands appeared, toying with his sensitive nipples, running over his taut chest and torso, rubbing his cock, and it wasn’t long before Jack came again, spilling all over Gabriel’s chest.

“Gabriel, please,” Jack begged, “Please come for me. I want you to come inside. I want you to fill me up, please Gabe, please…” His words became a mantra, chanting Gabriel’s name.

“I’m going to Jackie… I’m–” Smoke poured off Gabriel’s form in waves, curling and twisting around Jack’s body. Jack felt Gabriel seize beneath him, and Jack clenched, the burn of Gabriel’s orgasm erupting deep inside. Gabriel jerked a few times as he came, the shadow hands tearing at Jack’s skin, leaving slivers of crimson. They soon released Jack, and he collapsed on top of Gabriel, face buried into his neck, struggling to catch his breath.

Wordlessly Gabriel pulled his claws out of Jack’s flesh. Like before, Jack barely felt it, this time far too happy and too fucked to give a damn. He was where he was supposed to be. Gabriel’s arms sluggishly wrapped around him, his dick sliding out as it softened, cum trickling out of Jack’s hole. Neither of them moved, remaining a tangle of limbs and fluids atop once pristine bed sheets. _Gabriel… Gabriel… My Gabriel._

“Good for you?” Jack managed. 

* * *

 

Good didn’t even begin to describe it. Every part of him, every nanite, was alight with ecstasy. He felt so tired, so weak, so utterly blissful, and for the first time in a while his pain was forced so far into the background to a point that it became mostly ignorable.

“Gabe?”

“So much better than good Jack.” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” _I’m so sorry for hurting you, for letting my stupid shit get between us, for not trying to find you before I was too far gone_. He held Jack tighter. “I missed us.”

Jack kissed his neck.

“I needed us,” Gabriel said. “I…”

Jack’s head lifted then. There were tears in his eyes. He didn’t try to wipe them away, letting Gabriel, and only Gabriel see. “I know Gabe.” Jack leaned down and silenced anything he was about to say with a kiss, slow and passionate. When it ended he pressed their foreheads together. “I know.”

They stayed like that, and Gabriel smiled, listening to the sound of Jack’s breathing as it slowly calmed, coming down from the rush of orgasm.

“Hey Gabe,” Jack said softly.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t mean to ruin this, but, uh, it’s drying between us.”

“Oh,” Gabriel chuckled. “I don’t really feel like getting up, do you?”

“No.”

“We going by old rules?”

Jack groaned, “No Gabe, no we’re not.”

“Can’t break tradition Jack. You lost, not me. I made you come three times. You got me once. You’re on clean up duty.”

“Sounds to me like you’re the loser there.”

“Get up,” Gabriel lightly shoved his shoulders.

Jack laughed and got to his feet, using the edge of the bed for support, looking a little shaky. When he seemed sure of his balance he walked to the bathroom adjacent to the hot tub. Gabriel eyed the black substance running from his ass down his legs, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t long before Jack returned with a wet towel, having cleaned himself off. He didn’t mention it either as he wiped Gabriel’s stomach down, tossing the towel on the floor, and attempting to pull the covers out from under his body.

“Hey, you’re going to have to move,” Jack said, tugging on the comforter.

Gabriel just smirked and phased himself through, though the usually simple task was incredibly exhausting. _Still worth it_.

Jack deadpanned. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any cockier.” Gabriel grinned as he climbed into bed. “And please don’t make the terrible joke about your dick that I know is on the tip of your tongue. My heart can’t handle it.” He rested his head on Gabriel’s chest as Gabriel pulled him close.

“Not my fault you enable me.”

“Glad I’m good for something,” Jack murmured with a yawn. “Gabe?”

“Yes?’

“You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Of course.” _Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else right now._

Jack let out a pleasant sigh, and Gabriel carded his fingers gently though his hair: thinning, but still soft, and watched Jack, _his_ Jack, fall asleep. Gabriel could have watched all night, but was caught by the peace of the moment, and his body, for once, relaxed. He didn’t need to sleep, however Gabriel found himself closing his eyes, and for the first time in six years, allowed the darkness to take him, knowing he’d found his light.

**END CHAPTER 14.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was my first time ever writing smut, and of course it had to be full of feelings (let me know how I did). Shucks. *snaps fingers* Sorry this one took some extra time. It ended up being the longest chapter to date. Next up is the last flashback (from Gabe's POV) to tie up that part of the timeline, then the chapter after features our boys finally getting around to talking about that pesky explosion.
> 
> Many thanks to Mel and Caffeinated-Zombie for helping out with this monster. If you see any mistakes or have any feedback, feel free to let me know. I'm always open to improvement.


	15. Gabriel's Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback of risk and resolve.

Gabriel sat in his quarters, pushed against the wall on his bed in full Blackwatch gear with a tablet in his lap. His shotguns were on either side of him, loaded. He tried to focus on his task, but he found himself unable, even though it required a single keystroke to complete.

As much as he hated it, as much as it hurt, he’d thought about Jack every day (six hundred and eight so far) since he’d woken up without him in the infirmary. Others had been there, surrounding his bedside, faces lighting up with relief, near tears, when he’d opened his eyes: Angela and Jesse, but not Jack. Never Jack. Not anymore. They had tried to convince him Jack had actually shown up, that he’d rushed in during surgery, but Gabriel wasn’t having it. Even when Angela had offered video proof, he’d taken the tablet and hurled it across the room before she’d been able to show him.   

_"_ _It doesn’t matter what he did_ , _” Gabriel shouted._

_“Hey, c’mon. Calm down,” Jesse held up his hands, “You’re going to hurt yourself.”_

_“Please,” Angela tried to touch his arm reassuringly, but he batted her away, “you need to rest.”_

_“Where is he?” Gabriel continued to shout. “Where is he now? Where’s the fucking coward now?”_

_Neither spoke._

_Gabriel laughed out of pain._

_Jesse sighed, scratching the back of his head, “We haven’t seen him in two days; holed up in his office. He has his meals delivered. Won’t let anyone else in. I tried. I really did. I’m… I’m sorry jefe.”_

_He laughed again, wanting so hard for it not to turn into a sob, but it did anyway. “Leave. Both of you.”_   

Jack hadn’t cared, not for a long time. His hand brushed the fabric of his hoodie, over his stomach, over the scar where Voronov had sliced him open. Gabriel remembered the pain that went with it, though it had hurt far less than anything Jack had done, and he found himself staring across the room at a second pillow he’d thrown on the floor, which had once been beside his. He was – and it had dawned on him before, but was then just starting to sink in – very much alone. Ana was dead, Jack was too as far as he was concerned, Fareeha had left to enlist, he didn’t confide in Angela out of aversion to being heckled about his health (which was admittedly poor from lack of regular sleep), and Jesse, well, Jesse had left well over a year ago; a year and five months to be exact. Gabriel almost regretted it… 

 

* * *

 

Blackwatch was, as it had always been, in Overwatch’s shadow, submerged so far beneath there was no hope of rising above. As if to cement that notion, the UN had built the entire main facility under the Swiss Headquarters, the world none the wiser. It had pissed Gabriel off to no end, of course, when he’d found out about that particular construction plan, the sting of the Strike Commander promotion still fresh, but now, as he sat in front of a holoscreen at his desk, he was glad his office was well away from prying eyes.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Jesse asked, seated across from Gabriel, hat respectfully in his lap. The kid (not anymore, he supposed, but he always would be to Gabriel) must have thought he was in trouble… no, it was more than that, Gabriel knew, eyeing the way he kneaded his thumbs against the brim of his Stetson. Jesse was looking right at Gabriel, but his focus was on the wall.

Gabriel shut off the screen, “Relax, Jess. This isn’t disciplinary.” _Though it is just as serious, if not more so._ “And forget the chain of command shit. It’s just us.”

“Right, sorry Gabe.”

“It’s fine.” Gabriel held up a hand before turning it palm up. “Why don’t you start? You look like you have a lot on your mind.”

Jesse put his hat back on. His posture relaxed, sliding down in his chair. He folded his arms, though he was repeatedly tapping his foot. It was one of the many things Jack did when he was anxious, and Gabriel internally cursed at himself for thinking of him then. “You sure? This ain’t gunna be on the record or anythin’, right?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’m worried about you,” Jesse said.

Gabriel forced a chuckle.

“Gabe, c’mon. With everything goin’ on how can I not be? So many of our people are dead. I know you’ve noticed that there are less and less of us comin’ back from missions, and the UN isn’t doin’ much to fix that.”

No, they weren’t. Gabriel shook his head. He was losing people faster than he could replace, and most of the time the Blackwatch UN liason, Imogen Thorpe, would fill spots without his consult, taking in more people with criminal backgrounds than he would have liked (he’d only made an exception for Jesse due to his age, but it had the unfortunate consequence of setting a precedent). _“Necessary measures,”_ she had said. Necessary his ass. It was obvious to him there was something going on. The agents who’d fallen had died on duty, easily explainable, but the fact they were all people Gabriel had known for years, people loyal to him, gave him pause. They were people like Amir, Morales, Branko, and Weiss: the ones Voronov had killed. The coward had done it while they slept, and it had been Gabriel’s fault. He’d assigned Voronov to first watch that night, having suspected nothing of his malicious intent like a damned fool.

“Not to mention things the media’s been gettin’ hold of. Stories of human rights violations? Criminal activity within Overwatch?  Where the hell did they even get information like that? I know we’re not always clean, especially with what we do, but a lot of what I’m hearin’ is straight up horse shit.” Jesse shifted in his seat, slipping a cigarillo out of a tactical pouch. He stuck it in his mouth but didn’t light it, absently chewing on the end. “You want one?”

“Later, maybe.”

“Suit yourself,” Jesse pulled out a lighter and with a flick of his thumb lit the cigarillo. He took a long drag. “As if the tension wasn’t already bad enough around here with you and the Commander fightin’ all the time,” Gabriel tensed at that, sharply, visibly, and Jesse slowed, likely unsure if Gabriel was going to have more of a reaction, “or givin’ each other death glares… How long until Blackwatch gets exposed?”  Jesse made eye contact with him for the first time since he started talking. Gabriel met him, but didn’t have an answer, only suspicions.

It had been three months since Gabriel’s brush with death, the investigatory hearing that followed, and his assignment to desk duty while he recovered. Jack had been present during the hearing, though he’d said nothing, supportive or otherwise, his Strike Commander persona in full force. No one else but Gabriel would have noticed, but he was like a peacock, posturing to the world, keeping that mask, that display of polychrome beauty so close that it was beginning to bow to the emotional stress beneath. Something had been deeply bothering Jack that day, becoming more evident as Gabriel recounted what he remembered about Voronov’s attack, and for once, Gabriel hadn’t been sure exactly what it was. He’d be naïve to call it concern. It seemed more like disgust, confusion maybe? Jack had left immediately after Gabriel had finished with no objections from the UN members present. He’d thought about going after Jack, but didn’t at the risk of causing a scene. _What were you hiding from me Jack? What are you hiding now?_

“Gabe.” Jesse cleared his throat.

“Hm?”

“You spaced out.”

“Oh. Sorry Jess,” Gabriel said.

Jesse frowned. “And this, well, this is what I came here for. You’ve been…”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been what?”

Jesse looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, more than the general apprehension he’d shown before, like he was getting prepared to do something brave, _something stupid_. Gabriel had seen it before, that look: the way his expression blanked and eyes steeled, how his fingers, even then, were resting on the hammer of his Peacekeeper. “You’re not going to take this the right way.” Gabriel barely noticed his own hands had pulled into fists. “Though, I suppose there’s no way you would.”

“Spit it out.”

“You’ve been actin’ a lot like Jack.”

Gabriel winced at the words. He was _not_ acting like Jack Fucking Morrison.

“And I’m not the only one who’s noticed. You’re avoidin’ people, stayin’ in your office or quarters all the time, rarely speak to anyone anymore, and, hell, you’re just practically unreachable. You both are like fuckin’ strangers, ghosts just passin’ through.”

“Jack and I are nothing alike.”

Jesse blew smoke out of his nostrils, but didn’t speak. Still, Gabriel could hear his voice echoing against the inside of his skull: _“Ain’t that a lie if I ever heard one.”_ His fists tightened. He saw Jesse shift in his seat and Gabriel tried to douse his growing anger. It wasn’t Jesse’s fault. _Not his fault. Not. His. Fault._

Gabriel took a few deep breaths, flexing his fingers. Jack was becoming a problem (but when wasn’t he?). He was a weakness, and Gabriel wondered how obvious that weakness was to those who didn’t know him as well as Jesse, and how easily it could be used against him… It had before... He pushed the notion away for the time being and gave Jesse an apologetic look.

Jesse nodded once. “You know, you barely smile anymore, Gabe. I can’t even get you to laugh like you used to.”

_Not much to laugh about…_

“I get you’re still recoverin’, maybe not physically anymore but,” Jesse tapped his head with a finger, “up here. It bothers me to see you like this all the time. What’s goin’ on with you?” When Gabriel didn’t reply, Jesse pressed on, “Talk to me. I’m right here.”

Gabriel rubbed his beard, unable to feel the unkempt stubble beneath his gloves, but he knew how badly he was letting his appearance go. He probably looked dead. Part of him laughed at that. “Too much, _mijo_.”

“Well, start somewhere.” Jesse folded his arms.

Gabriel wasn’t going to argue, knowing well that Jesse intended to stay put until he got a suitable answer. He leaned back in his chair, unsure. He’d spent his time on desk duty doing things he shouldn’t, things that could easily get him into trouble, but his curiosity had won out over his sense. At least what he’d found had been worth it, he hoped. Gabriel’s eyes scanned the room out of habit. His office wasn’t bugged; he checked it daily, but the feeling of being watched never really went away. He was waiting to get caught, sure he would; it was only a matter of time.

“Gabriel?”

“Sorry. Before I say anything else, I want you to know I trust you Jess,” Gabriel meant it, even if the voice in the back of his mind had been trying to convince him otherwise, “more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.” _You’re all I have left._

The next words seemed to spill from Jesse’s mouth, “Even Ja–”

“Especially _him_.” Gabriel snapped, slamming a palm down on his desk. He refused to talk about Jack with anyone, even himself, and he wasn’t about to start then.

“I appreciate the sentiment…” Jesse cleared his throat as an indication for Gabriel to continue.

“I’ve been looking into what happened with Voronov beyond what I remember. There’s something wrong, not just with that but with Blackwatch, Overwatch even, and it’s worse than you’ve heard. I found some things while going through Jack’s computer,” Gabriel held up a hand when he saw Jesse’s mouth open, “and before you say anything I didn’t need to hack it. The idiot never changes his password. It’s the same as it’s been for the past twenty years.” _My birthday… Sentimental bastard…_

“How’d you get into his office?”

“I didn’t. Accessed it remotely.”

“Pretty sure that still counts as hackin’.” Jesse said and his brow elevated as he smirked.

Gabriel forced a smile for Jesse. _He’s right. I never smile… No reason to, not anymore…_ He thought of Jack then: his warmth, his embrace, and Ana: her kind voice, supportive ear, and her god damn tea, as well as others he’d lost over the years. Gabriel’s chest ached as emptiness settled. “I suppose it does.”

Jesse silently smoked, waiting.

“Regardless of my methods, Jack’s been digging into some of our old Blackwatch missions: Beirut, Puente Alto, Kiev, and others where our completion involved casualties.”

“Unavoidable if I recall,” Jesse said, tapping his cigarillo in the air as he counted. “Hostage situation, a failed bomb defusal, and bad intel that resulted in us walkin’ into a bunch of reactivated Bastions.”

“A situation where I gave you the order to take the shot and the hostage, an ambassador, died anyway, another where I made a judgment call, trusted our expert, and we ended up losing her, and the last,” he shook his head, “I should have known better. That informant didn’t sit right with me, even if he checked out.”

Jesse scoffed. “You really can’t be blamin’ yourself for any of that.” The look he gave Gabriel said: _Are you?_

He was, of course, even though he knew he shouldn’t; failure came with command. He knew that, but, after Voronov’s attack, Gabriel had been fighting a growing feeling of helplessness. One he hoped to crack down on soon.

“I’m a damn good shot,” Jesse continued, “Even when I failed first startin’ out,” he patted his holstered Peacekeeper, “this never did. Neither of us had any reason to doubt there. Figured I’d get the shot off first. Puente Alto was a tragedy, but Amy Perez knew what she was doing, knew the risks. That woman lived for explosives, and you weren’t at fault for trustin’ her when she told you she could handle it. As for Kiev, bad intel is bad intel.”

“Even so Jess, when viewed by someone who wasn’t there it’s easy to put me at fault for all of it.”

“No way.” Jesse held up his hands and shook his head. “Jack doesn’t think…” Again with Jack. Was he really that transparent? “Wait. How’d he know about Kiev? Wasn’t that supposed to be hush? Just you, our squadmates, and Thorpe?”

“It was.” Gabriel tapped the keypad on his desk. The holoscreen flashed to life and he pushed it towards Jesse with a flick of his fingers. The Kiev mission file was on screen.

Gabriel watched Jesse’s brow furrow as he examined it, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “This ain’t right… Says there were fifteen civilian casualties… There weren’t any civvies even close to that old factory.”

“I know. The fabrications don’t stop there. I haven’t been through them all yet, but it looks like someone’s taken certain creative liberties with the Blackwatch mission reports to make them look worse than they actually were, or to make me look culpable. Those rumors on the news; a lot of them are in these reports, which I sure as hell didn’t write.” Gabriel swiped two fingers across the air and more reports opened up on screen for Jesse. “Jack had the embellished ones on his machine along with the scrubbed reports.”

“No sign of the originals?”

“Not in Jack’s hands.” Gabriel kept a copy of the original reports, the ones he’d written, on his person at all times. _An insurance policy_. Insurance for what though, he wasn’t certain. “He’d have no reason to have them unless there was nothing that needed to be modified,” Gabriel replied. Jesse didn’t say it, didn’t need to, but Gabriel could feel his criticism. He shouldn’t have tried to protect Jack, to spare him of the gory details of Gabriel’s work just to ensure their Strike Commander’s peace of mind. He shouldn’t have, but he did anyway. He’d wanted to, and part of him wished he still had that luxury. “It was an agreement between Thorpe and I,” _Though I’d pushed hard for it._ “No one else was supposed to know.”

“I did.”

“You guessed.”

“Hard not to guess when Jack didn’t find out about the other assassination attempts after the first. Wasn’t hard to miss him not sittin’ in front of your door there Gabe. I probably wasn’t the only one in Blackwatch to assume that either.”

“Likely not, but you all knew better than to say anything.”

Jesse chuckled. “Taught us well.”

_Loyalty._ Gabriel had that once. His house had been built on it, until someone saw fit to kill his people off, to dismantle everything. “Jesse…”

Jesse took another drag, the embers flickering as he inhaled. “I see what you’re gettin’ at, and I don’t like it. Only one who could have modified the reports was Imogen Thorpe. But, she’s a suit, right? What in the blazes would she have to gain from any of this?”

“I don’t know. It’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” Gabriel said. “But she’s in control of whatever’s going on with us, at least on the surface. I don’t know if it’s deeper,” _It is. It must be,_ “and I don’t know what the end game is, but I know where I’m headed.” Gabriel took a deep breath and locked on Jesse. “I’m a king standing on the edge of a bloody knife, waiting to finally fall. Blackwatch, and by extension myself, have always been a tool to the UN, and the only reason you kill off those you’re using is if they’re no longer useful.”

Jesse chewed on the cigarillo, likely mulling over his conclusion. His words were unsure: “So you’re sayin’ Voronov was sent by the UN to kill you?”

“The UN, Thorpe, whoever else is behind whatever is going on,” Gabriel stood, throwing his hands up. “Someone in power with knowledge of what we’ve been doing wanted me dead, and it’s only a matter of time before they try again. There’s something _wrong_ here Jesse,” he stepped out from behind his desk, “something far beyond what we can see right now, and I’ll be damned if I don’t figure out what it is.”

“What will you do then?”

Gabriel watched a serpent of smoke lazily ascend between them. “Whatever I can to stop it, no matter what it takes.”

Jesse looked up at him, concerned, “Why? You said it yourself, someone tried to kill you. Why don’t you just leave, Gabe?” _Just leave? That would be awfully convenient, wouldn’t it?_ It would give whoever was gunning for him an even easier target to pick off; out in the open, away from any sort of protection…  That voice inside his head crept up again. How poetic would it be if Jesse McCree, the only one still close to him, turned out to be working for the enemy? _Stop it Gabriel. It’s not true._ “The media’s already got it in for Overwatch. You know how people are. It’s gunna get worse. Why stay in a crumbling house?”

He spoke without thinking. “Because it’s mine.” _Ours._ Overwatch and its goals of bringing peace, stability, and hope to a war-weary world, was something he and Jack had worked for together. Though their relationship was over, Gabriel still clung to what they’d made, and didn’t think he could stand to see it fall apart, at least not by someone else’s hands. If it had to end, if he really couldn’t save it, he’d want to be the one to do it in.

Jesse sighed and stood, a hand falling on Gabriel’s shoulder. “If this is what you want, you can count me in. _Estoy contigo._ ” He nodded once.

Gabriel frowned. _“Mijo… no se puede_.”

“Why the hell not?” Jesse folded his arms.

“I have little to give, and nothing left to protect, except this mess of an organization, and, you. Whoever they are, I’m not the only one they’re trying to kill. You could easily end up like Amir, Morales, Br–”

Jesse held up a hand. “I get it.”

“Do you? I asked you to come here because I wanted to–”

“To what? Ask me to leave? Make me abandon you when everyone else has? Force you to fight some unknown threat, some conspiracy you’re not even sure is there? You’ve been falling apart ever since you woke up in that hospital bed, and don’t tell me it’s not true. You need me. You can’t do this alone.”

“I’ll have to,” Gabriel’s expression became stern. “I’m asking you Jesse. Please don’t make it an order.”

Jesse tipped the brim of his hat up, “Going to have to make it an order then.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Gabriel said, tone level. He didn’t want to have to pull rank on this.

He scoffed. “I can take care of myself.”

Of course he _could_. Gabriel had trained him, but that wasn’t the damn point. “So can I,” Gabriel undid his armored chest plate, letting it drop with a heavy, resounding thud. He rolled up his hoodie to reveal the large, somewhat poorly healed scar carved across his stomach. “Or at least I thought I could,” he let the fabric go, stepping forward. “Voronov did that to me with my own boot knife after he’d tried, and failed, to poison me.” He drove a finger into Jesse’s chest and found himself yelling. “He beat me within inches of life and the only reason I was even able to haul my bloody carcass off the ground was because of the shit the United States government pumped into me when I was less than your age! The UN’s lackey almost killed me, Jesse, and I’m a fucking super soldier! You’re not!”

“That doesn’t fuckin’ matter! I’m not going to let you do this shit by yourself! God damn it Gabriel!” He drove the heel of his boot into the floor, hands balling into fists as he averted his gaze. His voice lowered, “Stop tryin’ to push everyone away. I _can_ help you.”

“No, you can’t,” he got quieter too, almost a whisper, as if speaking any more on the subject would make it real, “and if you stay here I’m scared I won’t be able to stop what’s coming. I’ve already fucked up enough,” _Jack, Ana,_ “Don’t be another thing I can’t save.”

“I ain’t leavin’.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You’re an idiot, Jesse,” Gabriel said with a growl, emotions fleeing his features as he assumed the role of Blackwatch Commander. “I’m ordering you to resign.”

Jesse gave him a look on indignation and his mouth pressed into a hard line.

“Agent McCree.”

“Yes, sir,” he said through clenched teeth.

Gabriel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Damn it Reyes,” Jesse tore the Stetson off his head and went to throw it on the floor but stopped mid-motion. Instead he lowered his head into his palms and let out a growl of frustration. “Damn you to hell you stubborn old man… Why’d you have to go and do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel muttered, knowing, while he meant it, his apology wouldn’t be good enough, nor should it.

Jesse just shook his head, uttering a string of curses.

“Pack up and leave tonight. I’ll take care of things on the official end.” _It’ll be like you were never even here._

“You think it’s gunna be that easy for me?”

“What part of our lives have ever been easy?”

“You’re a piece of work Gabe.”

They stood in silence, both staring at the floor. Gabriel decided it would be best to go back to his desk but before he could turn around Jesse had pulled him into a hug. He didn’t try to resist.

“ _Padre_ ,” Jesse said quietly, sincerely.

Gabriel sighed a shaking breath and returned the embrace. “I’m sorry,” he said again, unable to think of anything else to say. He remembered, then, the the dirty, scrappy, smart-ass teenager he’d saved from prison, seemingly in awe over the first real meal he’d likely had in years. That smile brought one to Gabriel’s face, and he couldn’t help but be proud of who Jesse McCree had become. At least he’d done one thing right. At least, if he failed to uncover and stop what was happening to Overwatch, he’d have something good to take to his grave.

“I really can’t convince you not to do this, can I?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” he spoke into Gabriel’s shoulder. “You’re impossible once you’ve set your mind on somethin’. Not even…”

_Jack could stop me. Maybe that’s why we failed, huh?_

Jesse squeezed him once more before he stepped back. He put his hat back on, reached into a pouch, and pulled out another cigarillo, which he offered to Gabriel. Gabriel smirked and took it. “Save that,” Jesse said. “You might need it one day.”

“I’ll cherish it.”

“Smart ass,” Jesse murmured, hand hanging off his belt while the other rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I guess this is where I walk out, off into the sunset and all that?”

“Yes,” Gabriel sat on his desk, rolling the cigarillo between two fingers, trying to focus on anything else but Jesse leaving.

Jesse nodded, “Right then.” He tipped his hat to Gabriel. “I’ll see you when this is done.” There was no hope in his voice.

“Yeah.” There was none in Gabriel’s either.

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

Jesse headed for the door of Gabriel’s office, though he stopped before he reached it, not bothering to turn and face him, “I still have permission to speak freely, sir?”

“You do.”

“Good.”

Gabriel tensed.

“You don’t want to talk about him, so don’t, but let me. I gotta say my peace before I go.” Jesse didn’t let him get a word in. “I don’t know much about what went on between you two, but it killed me, Ana too, to see y’all tearin’ each other apart when your private lives became public. There’s nothin’ more I wanted for you than to see you happy, and you were, with him, once. He still… cares about you. You don’t believe it, or don’t want to, but he does. He was a mess when you were in the med ward, probably more of a mess now. I wish you’d talk to him, really try to, but I doubt you could… even if… you still care about him.”

Gabriel closed his eyes briefly. He didn’t try to reply.

“Take care of yourself Gabriel. It was an honor fighting by your side, Commander,” Jesse said with as much sincerity as he could throw behind those words before he walked out. Gabriel never saw him after that.

 

* * *

 

_But he’s safe and away from this. That’s all that matters._

In the time since Jesse had left Gabriel had learned too much. His suspicions about a conspiracy had been right, controlling claws from an unseen hand digging deep into Overwatch. He’d tried telling Jack, tried to convince him something was wrong, that the organization was corrupt, that he was being used, but Jack had barely listened. Maybe it would have been a more effective conversation if Gabriel had given him all of the details, but a part of him stubbornly held onto the idiotic need to protect him. The fact that it had quickly devolved into shouting probably didn’t help either.

It didn’t matter. Jack didn’t matter. Gabriel wasn’t even sure what side Jack was on, or how big of a role he was playing in the grand scheme, but it was clear he had no interest in doing what needed to be done. If they couldn’t shut down Overwatch together, then Gabriel would do it alone.

He stared down at the tablet in his lap, a blue glow illuminating the scars on his face, the lines and bags beneath his eyes. The Blackwatch reports were open, the ones Thorpe had embellished. He’d attached them to an e-mail blast that would end up in the box of at least a dozen news outlets and independent whistleblowers around the globe with a single, sure keystroke. He’d be burying Overwatch, exposing Blackwatch, and martyring himself, but short of taking the whole building down, he didn’t see an alternative. He knew his life was forfeit; it had been for a while, and Gabriel wondered if he’d be around long enough to see the public burn Overwatch to the ground. It was, of course, wishful thinking.

“And the king falls with his kingdom,” Gabriel said quietly.

He pressed ‘SEND’ and closed his eyes, for once not thinking about Jack.

**END CHAPTER 15.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this took a while. Sorry about that (figured I'd update now instead of holding off until the usual Wednesday). This was actually the most difficult chapter to write because 1) Conspiracy theories are hard, 2) Fuck trying to parse out Blizzard's horrible timeline, and 3) Jesse McCree is apparently incredibly hard for me to grasp. I've also been working on an AU for reaper76 week.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter. Thanks to Mel and Caffeinated-Zombie (who was super helpful with McCree) for betaing, and to all of you for sticking with me.
> 
> On a random note I plan to go back into some of the earlier chapters, and modify a few minor things now that I've actually got a handle on the explosion timeline for this fic. You guys probably won't notice.


	16. Into the Fire...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes they remember what it was like to die."

The first thing Jack remembered was the distinct lack of heat; the comforting presence of Gabriel’s body absent. He’d barely opened his eyes when he jolted awake, sitting up in panic at what he saw.

“Gabriel!” The left side of the bed was in tatters, claw marks having ripped through the sheets and topper, into the mattress, leaving down feathers, ribbons of cloth, and foam chunks strewn everywhere. The edges of some of the marks were burnt, black scorching the once soft white. _How did I sleep through this?_ Jack grasped the destroyed edge of the bed and pulled himself to peer over it.

Gabriel was on the floor, curled up into a fetal position, tangled in part of the comforter. Only the top of his head and a hand keeping the blanket pulled over his face were exposed. Jack rushed to him. He wasn’t moving at all. The wisps of smoke he’d come to take notice of were sluggishly rising from his curls, intermittent, almost non-existent compared to how they’d been the night before.

His mind raced. Worry shot through him like shotgun spray. What happened to Gabriel? Was he even still…? “Gabe?”

No response.

What if Gabe was…? What if it was something that couldn’t be fixed? What if he lost Gabriel again? What if…? _Stop it Morrison._ Jack forced himself to take a deep breath. _You can’t help him if you lose it. Push back the worry and the fear and focus, damn it. He needs you._

“Gabe,” he repeated with more confidence.

Still nothing.

With a shaking hand Jack reached out for the comforter covering Gabriel’s face. He’d started to tug when Gabriel finally responded.

“No,” he rasped, claws gripping tighter to stop Jack, though there was barely any force to it. Jack could very easily yank the blanket away if he’d wanted. He placed his hand over Gabriel’s instead. It let off no warmth.

“Tell me what’s wrong? Why are you on the floor?”

Jack barely heard Gabriel’s reply, “I can’t do this anymore Jackie.” A sob, and then a desperate whisper, “Please… don’t make me.”

The pain in Gabriel’s voice struck him, and instinctively his mind leapt to their relationship as the cause, but, it couldn’t be? Their evening had ended on a positive note. He’d fallen asleep on Gabriel’s chest and Gabriel had been so… happy. It was possible Gabriel was having second thoughts, which Jack couldn’t fault him for, not even remotely expecting a quick fix for the broken bond of trust between them. Jack looked over his shoulder from where he knelt, taking in the state of the bed, the frantic violence of it all, and how Jack’s side had been left unscathed. No. Their relationship wasn’t what Gabriel was talking about. This was something else.

Gabriel let out another sob, body twisting, tangling the fabric around his limbs. “It hurts… so much. I want it to stop.” His voice cracked, “Why won’t it stop?”

He tried to speak calmly, like he wasn’t ready to break any second, “I need to know what’s going on so I can help you.”

Jack felt Gabriel’s fingers slide away, releasing the comforter. Jack hesitated to lift it, expecting Gabriel to protest again, but when he didn’t, Jack slowly finished the motion, uncovering Gabriel’s face.

“Oh my God, Gabe,” Jack said, and tears fell, unbidden.

Gabriel’s face was full of holes, exposing layers of his being. Jack was able to see skin, muscle, bone, and the sea of shifting, shimmering blackness that lay beneath. Carefully, Jack pulled the comforter away. His heart plummeted. The rest of Gabriel’s body was in no better shape, existing in a tedious, incomplete state of decay. He was still healing, Jack noted, but as new tissue crawled over the wounds, other parts of his form were rotting at the same agonizing pace, as if his body was just keeping up enough for him not to physically come apart. Jack wanted to hold Gabriel, to comfort him in a way he knew was needed, but refrained. He wasn’t sure if Gabriel could be moved like this and wasn’t going to leave it to chance.

“Please make it stop.” Gabriel said. He hadn’t looked at Jack the whole time.

“I’m going to get help Gabe.”

He thought he heard Gabriel laugh. “There is no help for me.”

Jack frowned. “I don’t believe that.” _There is something I can do._ Jack got up from where he’d knelt beside Gabriel and went to the bedside table. Sombra had said if he needed anything, she’d be there. He picked up phone, “Sombra.”

“ _Hola soldado, qué pasa?”_

“We need your help. There’s something wrong with Gabe. I think… I think it’s his nanites.”

The line went dead.

“Sombra?” _Please come back._

“ _Relájate_ ,” her voice said, suddenly beside him. He jumped. A hologram of a small woman with dark skin and a hooded cloak was being projected from the ceiling. She wore form-fitting body armor, a pair of ankle boots, and a helmeted visor. Jack could see brilliant lines of code streaming across it, an electric violet; the same color as the light running through her robotic arms, which ended in clawed tips. “I’m right here.”

Jack reached for the pillow on his side of the bed to cover himself.

Sombra snorted, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before Jack. You forget. I’ve been through your file. All of it.”

“Right.” He dropped the pillow. Jack looked on in silence as she approached Gabriel, form translucent and glowing with a soft blue aura. It was taking all of his control to hold back the worry threatening to break through and tear him down. Sombra dropped, sitting on her haunches and placed a hand on Gabriel’s forehead, though her fingertips brushed through it. “Scale of one to ten _amigo_ , how is your pain?”

“Off the scale,” Gabriel croaked.

“ _Mierda._ ” Sombra sighed.

“Sombra?”

“Pick him up.”

“Am I going to hurt him?”

“Yes, but we can’t do anything for him where he is.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jack. “His nanites do this sometimes,” she ran her fingers over Gabriel’s arm where the skin on his bicep was gone and the muscle was being rebuilt. “They’re every bit as alive as he is, you know.”

“I’m not alive, Sombra.”

“But you’re not dead either.” She motioned to Jack.

Jack knelt beside Gabriel, “I’m sorry.”

“Just get it over with.”

Jack nodded, “Where am I taking him?”

“Hot tub.”

“Are you serious? He has _holes_ in his body Sombra.”

“I’m aware,” she flicked her fingers at him. “He’ll be fine. It’s not like he can get an infection. Now stop stalling.”

Jack tried as carefully as he could to pick Gabriel off the floor, noting how his face contorted at the contact, sharp teeth clenched in agony, likely holding back a scream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” With Gabriel in his arms, Jack carried him to the hot tub, walking up the steps and into the steaming water. The jets turned on for him, though the ones near the back of the tub were off. Jack set Gabriel down there, on the lounge seat, which he slid down on his own, allowing the water to cover his head. He stayed there. No bubbles. No signs he was still… _He’s fine. He doesn’t need to breathe, remember?  Calm down._

“Fuck,” Jack muttered, dragging his hands down his face. He sat down on the bottom step of the tub, leaning forward, water lapping at his shoulders.

“You okay?” Sombra asked. Her hologram was sitting on the edge of the hot tub, feet in the water. She was idly kicking them back and forth to no effect.

“Do you expect me to be? Gabe is…” he stared at the dark, shifting form beneath the clear water. “How often does this happen to him?”

“Not very, thankfully. He gets bad pain days like this a few times a year.”

“I take it none of them have been like this though… off the scale.”

“No.”

“Did we…?” His brow furrowed and he looked at Sombra. “Did I cause this somehow?”

Sombra laughed. “Are you asking me if the two of you fucking like horny teenagers caused his body to stage a coup?”

Jack shot her a glare, “I’m serious.” His tone dropped and he averted his eyes. “I can’t stand to see him in pain, that he’s hurting because of me. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Sombra got up, balancing on the edge of the tub and hopping up on the support railing leading into the water, which she sat on, crossing her legs. He imagined she would have fallen off had she not been a hologram. “Jack. This isn’t something you did. Gabriel is…” she paused, tapping her chin briefly. Jack found it unnerving that he couldn’t see her eyes. “Gabriel and his nanites are separate, yet they are also one being, one mind of many. They remember things, sometimes good, like how to mend his body or react to bullets, and sometimes not so good, like his worst pain… his death. The second one.”

“Can’t you get them to stop?”                                                     

“I tried, once. Years ago he had a pain day at base. I spoke with them then,” the usual joyous inflection in her tone was gone and her lips turned into a frown, “and all I heard were millions of screams.”

“Gabe…” Jack’s hand wrapped around the pair of dog tags that hung around his neck, and he wracked his brain trying to think of a way to fix this, to make Gabriel stop hurting like he was. He hurt all of the time he’d said, and today was, somehow worse. His mind went to the painkillers Sombra had so generously gifted, but Gabriel had no blood, and his systems didn’t seem to work like they should, mostly, so it was unlikely the pills would have any affect. “Sombra. Does it hurt for him to shift into smoke?”

“ _Sí_ , but not in the same way. He has no nerves as smoke, but he’s still connected to everything, to his nanites. He still feels what it’s like to come apart, to be everywhere. The disconnect, he says, is what hurts,” Sombra leaned forward and her voice lowered, “You won’t see him shift when he’s like this Jack. When he was Reaper, talking about feelings was not a strong suit, unless it was about how irritated he was. Oh, I heard about that all of the time. Once, though… the first day he ever had an episode…” She looked to Gabriel briefly. He was still underwater, unmoving. “He’s afraid when the pain is that great, if he tries to shift, he’ll never be able to pull himself back together again.”

To be afraid to fall apart, to fear his own existence, to change again, to be less than what Gabriel considered human; Jack was slowly beginning to understand the depth of his struggles, and as much as he wanted to magically make it better, he was feeling crushed under the weight of it all, helpless. _This is what Gabriel went through alone… This is what I left him with._ “What else can I do?”

“He’ll need to eat.”

_Of course._

“Not hard to solve. I take it you haven’t had breakfast yet. I’ll order room service.”

Jack sat up straight, turning his head towards her, “We are _not_ letting him eat the hotel employees.”

She cackled, “Oh, you’re no fun _soldado_. _Gabriel es el afortunado_.”

“This isn’t a game, Sombra. I hope you have a better option.”

“I have a more difficult one.”

“I can handle it.”

Sombra hopped off the railing and stood behind Jack, leaning down so her lips were near his ear, fingers curling around his broad, muscular shoulders. “It’s funny. You can act like you’re holding onto some sense of morality, Jack, but we both know if it came down to it you’d sacrifice anyone for Gabriel’s well-being: the secretary at the front desk, the porter who hangs around the lobby oogling guests when he thinks no one’s looking, or even that nice little family you borrowed your suit from for your little _noche romántica_. Don’t lie to yourself. You’d do anything to end his pain.”

 _Would I?_ Jack scoffed, “I’ve already spent enough of my life hurting people who didn’t deserve it. It’s not something I plan to continue. There’s always another option.” _Until there isn’t._ Sombra had a point. He knew well as a soldier that sometimes there was only one choice. And sometimes it wasn’t a good one. While he didn’t want to harm innocents, never had, it was a desire that had caused him to make a lot of mistakes, and get a lot of people killed, like Gabriel.

“You know,” she motioned to Gabriel, “he claims to be the monster, but I only see one in this room, Strike Commander.”

Jack grit his teeth. “Don’t.”

“And, like him, you’re looking for some sort of redemption. What I need to know is: how badly do you want it? Not just in Gabriel’s eyes – that’s between you two –, but in your own?”

The answer was obvious. Everything he’d done up to that point, all of the choices he’d made, all of the information he’d gathered, all of the lives he’d taken, had been for him, and for Gabriel. To destroy the ones who’d destroyed them, it was all he’d existed for. He still wanted it, knew it had to happen, but neither of them had brought it up since their reunion.

“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but all of it was necessary,” Jack said, gruff voice becoming serious to match his expression as he turned around to face her. “And it takes a monster to kill a bigger one.”

Sombra sneered. “And who do you hunt, Jack?”

“Why bother asking? You know what I’ve been doing.” It was an assumption to be sure, but judging by what he’d learned of her so far he figured it was a safe one to make.

She hummed, but didn’t indicate one way or the other.

“What I want to know is,” _…I wouldn’t say I’m with them._ Her words from the first time they’d met echoed. _They’re more of a nasty convenience Reaper and I have been working on shaking up._ “Have the two of you been doing the same thing?”

Sombra wagged a finger at him, “You, oh,” she shook her head, laughing again, “you are _good_. I knew there was something I liked about you Jack.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Gabriel and I have been working together since we met. He wanted revenge, and I wanted a challenge.” She sighed thoughtfully. “Didn’t expect to get a friend out of it. As for you,” she bent down and touched his nose, “I didn’t start to suspect we were working towards the same end until you and Reaper kept crossing paths during our… side operations. Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern. You’re very capable Jack.” She drew back, pacing. “It’s been puzzling me, and you’ll find that’s rare, but how did you know about _el gringo gordo_?”

“Hugo Whitney?”

“That’s the one.”

“Met him before. Was with the UN. Used to…” He scoffed. Jack hadn’t thought of _her_ name in a while, purposefully avoided dragging it up in fact. She’d been in the building that day, gone up in flames like him and Gabriel, only she’d deserved it. _I did too, really. It should have never been Gabriel._ “Used to handle Blackwatch’s finances. Worked alongside Imogen Thorpe, the liason. His name was mentioned in a conversation by some Talon agents I’d been watching. The link was too good not to check out.”

“Well, he was our next target, until you interrupted.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Moved.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You know,” Sombra rocked on her heels, hands behind her back, playful tone saturating her words, “there was a reason why I booked you two at this hotel.”

Jack smirked. “Clever. I’ll give you that.”

“I try.” She motioned with a nod, “He’s in the penthouse suite, two floors up.”

Jack stood, heading for the bathroom to towel off before he went for his duffle bag.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to get Gabriel breakfast.” Jack was still immensely worried for Gabriel’s well-being, but he hadn’t moved since Jack placed him in the tub. Considering the amount of pain he was in, Jack didn’t expect Gabriel had plans to do so anytime soon and as much as Jack hated the idea of leaving him, if consuming a soul would help, then he intended to deliver.

“And what, you’re just going to rush into a room full of armed guards?”

Jack chuckled as he started putting on his Soldier 76 gear, fishing around in his bag for a pack of zip ties, which he deposited in a shoulder pouch. When he was dressed Jack swiped the bottle of Rivapril from the table near the hot tub, tossing it and catching it with one hand, rattling the pills inside. “What’s Whitney’s eating schedule?”

“Mmm, he hasn’t had anything yet; neither have his men. He likes to sleep in.”

“Think I could get this into their food?” Gabriel had made a joke earlier about it having the ability to put an elephant into a coma, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. It was developed for people with cybernetics, until found its way onto the streets. The stuff was illegal for a reason. “You’ll have to give me an idea of the dosage though.” 

“Oh, I think I could arrange something,” Sombra’s hand fell on her hip as she spoke. “For such a fancy place the staff here certainly doesn’t see enough of the wealth, especially the younger ones. I’m sure I could get someone to look the other way, for the right price. I’ll see what I can do.”

Jack nodded, looking back at Gabriel.

“Sit tight Jack. I’ll be back soon.” Jack didn’t get a chance to reply before she vanished.

He let out a heavy sigh, dropping to his knees and leaning against the tub, forearms resting on the edge. No matter how many times he told himself Gabriel was going to be fine, _was_ fine, _was_ _alive_ , the notion never set in. Jack put his head in his hands for a moment, then decided to slip off a glove and reach into the tub, palm flat against the surface of the water. _He’s probably not even going to notice… I just want him to know I’m here…_

Gabriel didn’t move still, but something else did. A blackness from his body, from his wounds, rose to meet Jack’s hand. It entwined with his fingers, talons of shadow squeezing faintly. _His nanites…_ Jack smiled and closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of the bubbling water.

 

* * *

Sombra was extremely good at her job. Jack had no doubt it was one of the reasons why she and Gabriel had become friends; Gabriel always did admire people as capable as he was. When the elevator stopped on their floor, the staff member in charge of delivering the food was absent, leaving Jack with the hover cart of Belgian waffles and breakfast pastries. Sombra had estimated a non-lethal (she said it would be better for Gabriel to do the actual killing, something about how she wasn’t sure how long a soul stayed with a body… _right… souls…still working on accepting that one…_ ) dosage of Rivapril, and Jack took the liberty of sprinkling the contents of the capsules onto the food, mixing it with the powdered sugar that seemed to dominate each dish.

When he was done he sent the elevator down to the floor below, and in a few seconds watched it go back up, passed their floor, to the penthouse suite. It took about a half an hour for Sombra to give him the go ahead after the delivery was made.

“So how much did you have to pay?” Jack asked through the communicator in his visor, heading up two floors.

“Eh, I just gave an eighteen year old enough money to retire on, no big deal.”

“Gabriel has that much…?”

“I know where this is going Jack, and trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Part of him didn’t. Part of him did. How many jobs _had_ Gabriel done as Reaper to amass what had to be a small fortune of blood money? He knew Gabriel needed to feed, but how much was excess? Was there excess? He’d read stories about Reaper, about rare corpses left behind, but he’d seen Gabriel’s nanites reduce a body to nothing, and couldn’t help but wonder if the evidence had been intentional. Everything Gabriel did was for a reason, and Jack found himself wishing he’d remembered that before their lives went up in flames.

He sighed. _Gotta keep moving forward._  

“Jack.”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t need to dress up for this,” he shook his head, knowing she was referring to his gear, “they’re out cold and I’m in control of the cameras. No one’s going to see you.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Ah.”

Soldier 76 was a comfort. He wasn’t Jack. He wasn’t Strike Commander. He was just a soldier. A soldier following orders (even if they were his own), and it felt more natural than being anything else, at least when he wasn’t around Gabriel. And, as much as he trusted Sombra, a trust that had been slowly building, he was more comfortable playing it safe, just in case, the persona a second skin more than anything else now.

He opened up the double doors of the penthouse, which Sombra had graciously unlocked, and strode through a glamorous foyer, past too many potted plants in ornate vases, past an open bar covered in empty shot glasses, and into the living room where Hugo Whitney and six armed body guards lay unconscious, the holocaster playing some soccer game in the middle of it all. Jack chuckled; a few of the guards were nose-down in their Belgian waffles. Whitney himself, floating dinner table above his lap, had face-planted into a Danish, crimson filling splattered atop his bald head.

Jack opened up the pouch he’d put the zip ties in, surveying the room, “How many do we need?”

“Normally I’d say bring them all, but we need what _el gringo gordo_ has in his head, and I don’t think in Gabriel’s state he’s going to be able to handle consuming more than one soul.”

Gabriel had mentioned he retained people’s memories. _So many voices…_ Jack couldn’t imagine what that was like. It was one thing to have your own demons, but to have others screaming with them? _I’m so sorry Gabriel. God, I’m so fucking sorry you have to go through all of this._ “Makes sense,” he said. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Gabriel any more pain, if that were possible. “So just him then,” Jack grunted, motioning with his pulse rifle. “Am I handling the guards or did you have a plan for that?”

“So ruthless Jack,” she chided.

Jack shook his head. None of the people in the room were innocent, all Talon employed, and he knew it would be easier to just remove them and be done with it; no mess, no witnesses, no questions, but that was the soldier in him talking.

Sombra let out a dramatic sigh, “As fun as it would be, and trust me, I’m disappointed too, without Gabriel, body disposal just isn’t as efficient. We can’t risk having any lose ends, so I’ll deal with it. Just let _la experta_ work her magic.”

Jack shouldered his pulse rifle and walked over to Whitney. He was a portly man who seemed to indulge in the fineries his place of power had brought a bit too easily. Even through the visor Jack could smell the thick scent of alcohol wafting off his red silk pajamas, and Jack scrunched his nose as he secured Whitney’s hands behind his back with a zip tie. Jack wasn’t sure how he felt then. Going after the ones responsible for the fall had been unquestionably the right thing to do, and now, he couldn’t help but feel how surreal the situation was; to be this close…

Jack smiled. It was genuine. _One major player down. I wonder how many more to go?_

While they were waiting for the Rivapril to kick in, Sombra had talked his ear off, but at least she’d been informative. Though Hugo Whitney’s activity had been limited since the explosion, he’d been involved in shuffling funds around for Talon. As one of the primary movers in the old Overwatch days, he’d financed Talon’s operations with stolen money. If Jack and Gabriel‘s hands were bloodied, then this guy was bathing in it, unable to wash himself clean. They’d been pawns that people like Whitney and – he briefly squeezed his eyes shut –, Thorpe could move around at a whim, could use without remorse, could… break. _Not this time. Not ever again._

With a grunt, Jack slung Whitney over his other shoulder, and started to walk out of the suite. The man didn’t stir. “No quip about my age Sombra? My old bones could give out any day now.”

No reply.

“Sombra?”

“Shh… working.”

Jack gave a dismissive “hmpf”, but said nothing more. He headed down the hall back to the elevator. She spoke again as he got inside.

“You’re not the only one worried about Gabe, you know,” Sombra said softly.

“I know,” Jack replied. 

 

* * *

 

When Jack returned to the room he found the water in the hot tub was completely black. He’d dropped Whitney without a second thought, also dropping his rifle and prying off his visor, and rushed over to it, shoving his arms in, not caring that he was still dressed. He was met with resistance, contents the consistency of quick sand, and even through the leather of his jacket he felt it moving around him, _swarming._

“Gabriel!” _I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have left him alone! Why did I leave him! I promised I wouldn’t! I promised!_

It was then, beneath the murk, hands firmly took his. _Gabriel._ They gave a weak tug. Jack squeezed once and the nanites surrounding him allowed him to pull back just enough so he could climb into the tub. He mimed around for Gabriel, nanites directing his hands, actually pushing Gabriel’s body into Jack’s on their own. Jack watched Gabriel’s head rise, coming to rest against Jack’s chest.

“How are you?” Jack said, carefully wrapping his arms around the man he loved, and always had.

“Tired,” Gabriel spoke softly. His skin looked better. It wasn’t nearly as rotted, though it was still worse than last night, smoke rising off him in a faint haze.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Wouldn’t matter if you were,” Gabriel said. All of his eyes were closed. “I need this.”

“Gabe?” It mattered to Jack.

“It always hurts, Jack, but I’m not screaming, am I?”

“No, you’re not,” Jack sighed. Gabriel’s answer didn’t do much to soothe him. “Are we sitting in… nanites?”

“Uh huh.”

“Where did they…?”

Gabriel batted his fingertips against Jack’s arm, and he loosened his grip enough for Gabriel to guide his hand to his chest, to his autopsy scar. It was open, like a mouth, and Jack swore he could feel the points of teeth just inside of the once sewn skin of the Y-incision. “That’s weird, Gabe.” Jack tried to sound as light-hearted as possible, hoping Gabriel wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“I know,” he chuckled a bit. “My nanites… sometimes there’s excess. Sometimes they multiply and just sit on what’s left of organs, filling the cavity, filling my veins. Water. They use that Jackie. Ever wonder why I can turn corpses to dust? It’s not just me taking a soul; it’s me taking everything of use.” Gabriel paused. “You’re still not bothered by me?”

“No. You shouldn’t talk so much. You need to rest.”

Gabriel hummed affirmatively. He felt warmer to Jack, but he wasn’t sure if that was due to the nanites around them or not. “Where did you go?”

The tone wasn’t accusatory, but that’s all Jack could think of, Gabriel’s voice ringing out in his head: _“Why did you leave me behind?”_ The knot taking root in his chest made him want to vomit, and Jack did his best to ignore it. “To find you something to eat.”

“Oh? I’m guessing your Boy Scout sensibilities didn’t let you go for easy targets, so, what piece of criminal filth did you drag up from the streets of Dorado?”

“Hugo Whitney.”

Jack noticed all of Gabriel’s eyes open, and Jack smirked a little.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Jack warned, motioning with a nod. “He’s on the floor, out cold for now.”

“Good, gives me some time to spend with you... I want him to be awake.”

“That seems cruel, Gabe.”

“There’s nothing crueler than what was done to us, Jack.” Gabriel said flatly.

“You don’t even know what happened to me.” _And I don’t know what happened to you, what they did to you before Reaper._

“Then tell me I’m wrong,” Gabriel said.

Jack could not.

“Didn’t think so,” Gabriel snuggled closer to Jack, and the nanites seemed to tighten around them, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. “Jack.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I should sleep anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I… I don’t want to wake up like this again.”

Jack frowned and kissed the top of Gabriel’s head. “Gabe I don’t think –”

“I hadn’t slept in six years.” _Six years…_ And Gabriel had gone through pain days wide awake for the entirety? “Seems more than coincidental that I have a severe pain episode right after…” A clawed hand dug into the leather of Jack’s coat. “I gave them time to think… time to remember…”

He felt Gabriel shake in his arms. “Shh, it’s okay,” Jack placed a hand against the side of Gabriel’s face, keeping him against his chest with a soft, careful pressure. “You don’t have to.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“And you’ll stay?”

“Always.”

And Jack meant it.

**END CHAPTER 16**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went a different place than I intended. Some more character development... needed more Jack comforting Gabe in my life. Explosion stuff will be in the next one. Sombra's still my version (made her before we had the canon one, as much as I absolutely adore the canon one).
> 
> My buddy Wade beta read this one, so thank you. 
> 
> Always open to constructive feedback. I have no issues with fixing things that are wrong with this work. I'd like to make it the best it can be. If you ever need to get in touch with me, please feel free to message me on tumblr (anon or not): [kerrigore.tumblr.com](http://kerrigore.tumblr.com).


	17. ...To Rise From the Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons of the past still haunt the present.

Jack held Gabriel until his nanites pulled him back beneath their sea.

He didn’t stray far, back to the black pool, eyes on Whitney, waiting. In the down time Jack decided to take Sombra up on her room service offer, sans the whole sacrificing the hotel staff part. Jack had been sitting on the edge of the hot tub, having polished off three plates of Belgian waffles (Hugo Whitney had good taste in food if nothing else), and was working on some fresh fruit. He was trying to take better care of himself now that he had a real reason to, and something simple like breakfast seemed like a good place to start.

“Mmm, pity you can’t share.” She sighed wistfully. “My stash is running low and Gabriel isn’t here to replenish it.”

Jack quirked a brow, “You make Gabe get you food?” He tried to imagine Reaper making a snack run, arms carrying stacks of junk food boxes.

She waved at him dismissively, “Ah, I don’t make him do anything.”

“Right. You’re just very convincing.”

“ _Es parte de mi encanto_.”

Jack glanced to his right to see Sombra’s hologram sitting beside him. He finished what he was eating before lifting the fruit bowl a bit, “What’s your favorite?”

Sombra motioned to the pineapple slices with a finger.

“Good choice. They grow these just outside the city you know. Walked by on my way through. I bet the hotel gets them from there. Nice and fresh.” Jack collected all of the slices and shoved them all into his mouth, continuing to chew through a shit-eating grin.

She pursed her lips, “ _Eres un hombre vil_ , Jack Morrison. I hope you choke.”

He almost did when he heard Gabriel’s voice emanating from the pool, “There’s only one thing he chokes on and it’s not fruit.”

Sombra burst out into a fit of laughter that quickly became howling as Jack tried to keep from spitting out the pineapple, which was difficult to do between coughs. _Damn it Gabe._

“You alright up there Jackie?” Gabriel said.

 Jack managed, swallowing his food and going for the glass of milk perched on the edge of the tub on his opposite side. He gulped it down, voice raspier than normal, “Fine. I’ll live. Be easier if I didn’t have to put up with your jokes though.”

“Hey, you wanted me back. You get all of me, jokes included. Also, you started it by picking on Sombra.” The nanite pool rippled. “I’m the only one who gets to do that.”

“Oh, Gabe,” she cooed, putting the back of her hand dramatically against the part of her visor that covered her forehead, “how noble of you.”

“I try.”

Jack scoffed, glancing at Whitney. “I don’t think there’s anything noble about any of us at this point.”

“Mmm, don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts _soldado_.”

“Not a one,” Jack said. He wasn’t lying. Gabriel was right, as usual; they deserved this redemption, this vengeance, this reshuffling of Fate’s hand. It was all long overdue, and he didn’t feel bad about it, not in the least. “Just stating a fact.” His attention turned to the pool. “How are you, Gabriel?”

“Hungry.”

“It was your choice to wait,” Jack said.

“Yeah, watching you eat though…” Gabriel’s voice echoed. “It made me think back to when we used to cook for each other. You’d make your mom’s recipes and I’d either pull from the vast Reyes family library or whip something up on the fly.” He chuckled. “Remember that stupid fucking apron?”

He did. “I liked that apron,” Jack said with a slight smile. “You got it for me.” _I liked every gift you gave me._

“Okay yeah, touching, but really Jack, I didn’t think you’d actually wear it unironically.”

“Is it this one?” Sombra said, holding a projected photo between two fingers, which she angled so Gabriel’s nanites could see (Jack assumed anyway). In the picture was a much younger, happier version of Jack holding a spatula while dressed in an apron that read: “Hot Stuff Coming Through”. It was taken by Gabriel, back when they used to unofficially share Jack’s large Strike Commander’s quarters, which was more like an apartment as it possessed its own kitchen.

The pool of nanites quaked as Gabriel laughed, “That’s it.”

Jack’s smile just grew wider. “You know you enjoyed it.”

The laughter dropped off suddenly. Gabriel’s voice became quiet, “I did. I really, truly did.”

There was more to be said. Jack could only guess, but as he let himself get lost in reverie, he found how much he missed the rare, lazy mornings they spent together, the playful arguments about what to cook for breakfast and who was cooking (usually Jack; he made a mean short stack, which Gabriel would, without fail, cover in syrup and jam), the “screw the meetings, give me five more minutes” intimate moments they’d shared, the stolen kisses, the strong yet gentle touches… “Me too,” he said.

A groan drew Jack’s attention away from Gabriel as Hugo Whitney finally stirred. “What?” he tugged at the zip tie that bound his wrists behind his back, “What is this? What’s going on?” His beady eyes landed on Jack. Sombra’s hologram had left. “Who the hell are you?”

“Someone you had a hand in creating,” Jack replied flatly. “It’s been a few years since we last saw each other Whitney, and certainly not so clearly, since you seemed so comfortable hiding in Thorpe’s shadow.” He paused to gauge a reaction. Whitney’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. “You were always sharp with numbers. I guess that doesn’t apply to faces.”

A delay, then realization dawned on Hugo Whitney’s face as if a building were about to fall on top of him. “Strike Commander Jack Morrison…” he shook his bald head, eyes blown wide. “How are you still alive?”

Jack chuckled.

 _I wasn’t for a while._ Jack’s fingertips brushed the pool. “I guess I’m too stubborn to die.”

“What do you want from me?”

 _Everything._ _Right Gabe?_ He felt the nanites tug gently at his fingers. “It doesn’t matter all that much,” Jack said. “There’s nothing you can do to stop what’s coming. You made a mistake all of those years ago. You, and the rest of your Talon friends,” Jack tried but he was unable to hold back the bitterness in his voice, “shouldn’t have screwed with us.”

“Us?” Whitney blinked.

The nanites gave a short, quick tug at Jack’s hand and he stood then, side stepping the hot tub a little to give Whitney a clear view. Smoke poured over the edges, darting up a rising form as the pool swelled, its consistency thick like tar, shifting with billions of racing movements as the many solidified to become one. Gabriel breached the blackness, an Angel of Death, elegant, triumphant as he flowed towards Hugo Whitney, who was locked in place, staring at him in well-deserved fear.

Gabriel’s skin was still twisted with invading rot, but the pained look in his crimson eyes had fled, replaced by a hunger Jack hadn’t yet seen. A wide, toothy grin cut through his face, his autopsy scar bared teeth, the wicked claws on his fingers elongated more than usual and were glistening as if dipped in ink. He rode a wave of darkness, lower half obscured, as he approached Whitney to loom over him.

“Gabriel Reyes.” Hugo Whitney started screaming then, calling for help from his men. Gabriel just laughed

“No one’s coming for you,” Jack said. “Isn’t that right Sombra?”

“You sound skeptical Jack.” Her tone was playful. She appeared beside Gabriel, setting a foot on Whitney’s back, and Jack had to cover a smirk with the back of his hand knowing she was balancing like that wherever she was transmitting from.

“Who am I to doubt an expert?” Jack replied.

“ _Solo eres otro hombre muerto_. This room is full of them, or will be soon enough.” Sombra leaned down to get in Whitney’s face. “Your body guards are long gone _gringo_. They went chasing after you when they learned what you did to them.”

“What I did?” Whitney said, clearly flustered. He struggled at his bonds to no avail.

“See for yourself.” She motioned to the space in front of Whitney before her hologram vanished and was replaced with a security feed of the penthouse suite.

A familiar scene: Whitney and his men eating breakfast. Around him, the body guards slowly passed out while Whitney continued to nonchalantly eat his Danish, which he took the time to finish, licking his fingers before standing. He went over to check the nearest man, picking up his arm and letting it go. When it fell to the floor with a soft thud, Whitney disappeared into the bedroom to return a few moments later dressed in a suit. He smirked at the scene before him and left the room.

“I… I never did that!” Whitney all but sputtered, looking frantically between Jack and Gabriel. “How!”

Sombra reappeared in front of him. “ _Magia_.” She took a bow.

“Are you done?” Gabriel asked with a growl. Jack hadn’t expected Gabriel to wait at all, even if it had only been a few minutes. But, Gabriel _would_ sacrifice his personal comfort for the sake of image, so he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised at all. Still, it bothered Jack. He knew Gabriel was hurting, and the amount of energy he was using to stay partially incorporeal couldn’t be insignificant.

“All yours _Rey en Negro._ ”

“Thank you.” Gabriel suddenly lunged at Whitney with a speed Jack didn’t think was entirely necessary, given his condition. It got the desired effect though as Whitney let out a terrified scream. He found himself against a wall, pinned by the massive hand pressed flat against his chest.

“Please, stop. Don’t do it! I’ll do anything!” he begged, eyes wide in desperation, having aptly gauged his situation. Jack would have felt bad had it been someone else. When he first saw Gabriel take a soul, to say no one deserved a fate like that was an understatement then. But Jack had learned since that there were exceptions. He wasn’t anxious, only calm. Jack had accepted the finality their path involved. “Give you anything! I have money!”

Gabriel’s head dipped down, lips beside Whitney’s ear, speaking low, “There’s nothing you can give me that I don’t already plan to take. Morrison was right.” Gabriel nearly sang his words, “You shouldn’t have fucked with us.”

Before Whitney could speak again the hand on his chest pushed hard enough to crack his sternum and he let out a sharp gasp before his head slumped. Jack saw Gabriel’s arm jerk, and then the body withered as his nanites removed Hugo Whitney from existence, stripping the layers of his being until there was nothing left.

Gabriel, completely solid, stood in place facing the wall, a hand on it for support.

“Everything alright Gabe?”

“Yeah,” Jack heard pain, “just fine Jackie.” He saw Gabriel shudder and his claws carved the wall as his hand became a fist. He spun around, palm pressed to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut, and when he took a step he faltered.

Jack was already on his feet, catching him before he even came close to hitting the floor. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Gabriel chuckled weakly. “Only to you… know me too well.”

Jack held him in his arms, cradling the back of Gabriel’s head. Whitney’s memories were bombarding Gabriel’s mind, and Jack couldn’t even begin to guess the things he was seeing. “What do you need?”

“I’d like to get back in the water,” Gabriel grumbled, squirming a bit. The nanites were already working to repair the excess damage to his skin after the much needed energy boost.

Jack nodded and carried him over to the hot tub only to find it was completely empty. “Um…”

“Yeah, I know. Bathroom?”

“I can fill the tub in there. You want it hot again?”

“As hot as it’ll go.” Gabriel lifted his head to peer at Sombra’s hologram, who’d silently observed the whole ordeal. “I’ll get you the names later.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to give them to me now. Do it when you’re feeling a little less like Death.”

Gabriel smirked. “I am Death.”

Jack rolled his eyes and kissed Gabriel’s forehead. “You. Enough.” He looked over his shoulder at Sombra. “And you. Thank you, again.”

“ _Por supuesto_ Jack. You know how to reach me if I’m needed.” She waved before her hologram dissolved.

Gabriel pressed his cheek into Jack’s chest as he was carried into the bathroom and set into the tub: a fancy piece of stonework with a headrest at the back. Jack pulled a towel from the nearby rack, folded it, and placed it beneath Gabriel’s head like a pillow. He then drew the bath water.

“I could get used to this,” Gabriel muttered, staring at him through a half-lidded gaze.

Jack chuckled, stripping off his jacket and gloves as he sat on the rug in front of the tub. “I don’t mind.” _I want to._

A raspy sigh escaped Gabriel’s throat, pushing out smoke.

“What is it, Gabe?”

Gabriel turned away, staring at the ceiling instead. “I didn’t think I would ever have this again, so much so that I let the very notion slip away from me. I was alone for so long…” Gabriel’s hand gripped the edge of the tub, claws pushing into the stone. “You left me when I needed you before, and even now, though I should know better, part of me expects it’s going to happen again. I’m sorry… I shouldn’t think that way, but–”

“No, you should. Until recently I hadn’t given you a reason not to. I don’t blame you, Gabriel. You’re justified.” _In this. In whatever’s coming. I’m the reason you’re in pain. You have every right to be angry with me._

There was silence for a moment, then Gabriel spoke and his words made Jack’s stomach twist. He knew the question was coming, but it hurt all the same, as did the memories it brought. “Why didn’t you come see me after Voronov tried to kill me?”

“I did as soon as I heard.”

“But not after.”

Jack shook his head, “No.” He reached out for Gabriel’s hand, but it withdrew back into the tub. Jack tried not to let it show how bothered he was by that. _It’s not about you right now Jack. It’s about him._

All of Gabriel’s eyes closed, “Why?”

The answer was one of the many reasons Jack hated himself. He should have seen what she was doing from the beginning, before it got as bad as it did. To anyone else it would have been obvious, but he fell right into her web

 _“He killed them Commander Morrison. What are you going to do to stop him?”_ A voice mocked. _“How could you let all of this happen under your watch Commander? You should have known him better than anyone, and yet he’s fallen so far, become someone you don’t even recognize. You claim to love him but is it the façade you’re enamored with or the man underneath? Who is Gabriel Reyes? Who is he really?”_

“Jack,” Gabriel said sternly, demanding an answer.

“I…” Jack drew a sharp breath. No, he wasn’t going to get into the depth of it. The specifics didn’t change the fact he still failed. “I listened to the wrong people.”

“No shit. Who.”

His body went rigid. “Imogen Thorpe. She convinced me you had killed your unit, including Voronov.”

Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open, and in them Jack saw only anger. “Thorpe. How could you trust that fucking suit over me? How could you trust any of them over _me_?”

“You and I weren’t really speaking then Gabe. You avoided me or walled me off every chance you got, we fought constantly over almost nothing, and…” _Not about you. Shut up._ “Sorry. I didn’t want to believe her, but she had evidence.”

“What evidence?”

“A video. Voronov recorded it, blamed it all on you. I was skeptical, but you came in at the end of it and smashed his head into the console. It looked like you were trying to shut him up and, well, he died while you lived, so that lie ended up being pretty convincing. Thorpe showed me the altered Blackwatch files right after, and I was too horrified at what was in them to think straight. My mind just… it flipped into overdrive, it focused on the possibility of you having done all of those things, repeating in my head until I’d convinced myself that that was the only logical option, even if it was completely wrong. I was just so scared Gabriel, and I know it’s a terrible excuse for what I did, for turning on you, for ignoring you when you tried to warn me that–”

“You fucking shot at me Jack.”

Jack was quiet then. This was a topic they would have had to talk about sooner or later, but, even fully aware of that fact it felt like the end of something. Where was Gabriel going with this? Jack’s heart was pounding in his chest and he drummed his fingers against the floor, failing to keep the rising wave of anxiety from drowning him. He heard the splash of water, felt his throat close, and his hand must have gone to his own neck because he felt Gabriel carefully pull it away.

“Jackie.” Fingers snapped then claws gently cupped his chin. “Hey.”

He refocused, shaking his head.

“Don’t run from this,” Gabriel said, voice stripped of all anger and replaced with reassurance.

Both hands became fists, nails digging into his palms, “I’m sorry. I was weak. I let the fear control me, let the ideas Thorpe put in my head divide us, and I shot at you, because in that moment when you burst into my office shouting again, and again, and again about corruption and the end of Overwatch, I genuinely thought you were there to kill me like you did Voronov, like you did your squad.” Jack shook his head, hearing Imogen Thorpe’s voice echo in his head. “But that wasn’t you, and it never was. I wanted to believe in the good then, so much so that I let myself be blind to what was really going on. You were right Gabriel. I should have listened to you. I should have trusted you.” Memories came. He and Gabriel were squared off in his office. Jack’s side arm was drawn. He’d fired on Gabriel, who stood on the remnants of Jack’s office door, the round having whizzed past his ear. A look of incredulity spread across the features of the man Jack couldn’t let go, and it did far more damage than the gunshot would have. Gabriel was about to speak, but the room was engulfed by fire as the first in a series of explosions tore through the Swiss Headquarters. He remembered a shout, and a force pushing Jack out of the way as the ceiling came down. _Gabriel._ “God, I should have fucking trusted you and because I didn’t you _died_ , and now you have to suffer for my mistakes.” Jack lowered his head, staring at the woven fibers of red rug beneath him. Tears stung his eyes, but he didn’t dare wipe them away.

“I did kill Voronov,” Gabriel said plainly. “You didn’t imagine that, but I never touched the others. I would never hurt my team. That was all his work. He’d been with Talon the entire time; a traitor, just like Thorpe.”

Jack nodded. He’d guessed as much, though in all of their fights leading up to the explosion Gabriel never once mentioned Talon by name.

“I can’t fix this,” Jack said. _No amount of apologizing can repair the damage I caused you._ Yet he felt compelled to try anyway, “I’m so sorry Gabriel.”

Gabriel lifted Jack’s chin, and wiped a tear away with the tip of a claw. It was then Jack noticed Gabriel had been crying too, the anger still burning bright.

“Gabe… if you want me to go I–”

“Get in the fucking tub with me Jack.” Gabriel sat up.

Jack didn’t hesitate. He stripped off the rest of his gear, stopped the water, and climbed in behind Gabriel as directed, ignoring the scalding temperature. The tub overflowed at the displacement, sloshing onto the floor. They fit well enough into the space, even for two super soldiers, and Jack helped Gabriel shift so he was lying atop Jack’s chest. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Gabriel.

“It should have been me, not you,” Jack said softly.

“Shouldn’t have been either of us, but our enemies were smarter than we were,” a claw idly stroked Jack’s stomach. “It was a sound strategy. We were always best together. Apart we were unfocused, destructive… foolish.”

“Apart we were afraid,” Jack said, squeezing Gabriel, though still mindful of his broken body. His skin had healed some; most of the open wounds had been covered.

“Apart we were alone,” Gabriel added.

“But we fell together. You saved me.” _You didn’t have to._

“I know.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No. I wouldn’t want you to suffer in this body.”

“But I would if it meant you didn’t have to.”

“Stupid, too noble Jack.” Gabriel scoffed. “Maybe I’m not much better… I guess I tried to look out for you, sometimes subconsciously, even if it that compassion wasn’t reciprocated.” _You never told me the corruption was Talon, but you knew… Oh, Gabe…_

“I…” Jack squeezed his eyes shut.

“I can’t forgive you Jack. I don’t know if I ever can.”

He nodded once, unable to reply. Jack knew that was the case deep down. There was no way it wouldn’t be, so why did he feel like falling to pieces?

“But,” Gabriel continued, “it doesn’t mean I want you to leave. It doesn’t mean I want to stop what we’re doing. It doesn’t mean I–” his voice cracked and the sob that wracked his body made Jack pull Gabriel closer, “Fuck. I’ve always been so fucked for you Jack. I’ve always…” Gabriel trembled. “I walled you off. I got pissed. I yelled at you; said some horrible shit. I made myself unapproachable, but so did you. You locked yourself in your office, surrounded yourself with UN security… I thought for a while that you were in on what Talon was doing.” Jack ran his fingers gently through Gabriel’s curls. “I should have listened to Jesse. Did you know I sent him away Jack?”

Jack didn’t, but Jesse’s abrupt resignation had set off his suspicions. Of course Gabriel would get him out. Of course Gabriel would protect him, and Jack was proud knowing he did. “I guessed.”

“He told me before he left that I should talk to you, _really_ talk to you, and maybe if I had,” _If either one of us had_ , “then we could have stopped Talon before they destroyed everything.”

“It was probably too late at that point,” Jack said solemnly. “But we have another chance, don’t we?”

He felt Gabriel nod as he buried his face in Jack’s chest, still sobbing. Jack held him close, trying to say everything in that embrace he couldn’t in words. Slowly, Gabriel’s arms slid around him, his hands gripping the small of Jack’s back, but not enough to puncture skin.

Jack just let him cry, stroking Gabriel’s cheek with a thumb. He started humming; didn’t really have a tune in mind, but it developed into the song he’d tried to sing when he first awoke to Reaper in the Talon safehouse. It was something Gabriel wrote for him to show how much he cared, to help calm Jack when he was upset, when his anxiety was far too much to handle on his own. Jack knew it backwards and forwards, in English and in Spanish. Gabriel had made fun of him for always singing off key, but neither of them had really been any good. It hadn’t mattered though. They’d made up for each other’s shortcomings, and when they couldn’t they’d simply taken solace in being terrible at something together. _Together._

With a deep breath, Jack started to sing softly, even if his voice sounded like he was gargling gravel, “With my last breath I’ll love you dear, eternally, by your side, never alone, never alone. In the darkness there is much to fear, but I won’t leave you, I can’t leave you.”

“As the shadows encroach, and they snuff out the light, hand in hand, we’ll still shine bright,” Gabriel sang softly through slowed sobs.

“There is nothing that can take you away from me,” their voices mixed as they joined in a duet. “Nothing that can take me away from you. Nothing that can–”

“Jack.”

“Yeah, Gabe?”

“We sound like a couple of dying bullfrogs trying to start an old diesel engine.” Gabriel said, sniffling but otherwise seeming slightly more light-hearted, the angry edge having dulled. He rubbed the side of his face on Jack’s chest to wipe his eyes.

“Oh c’mon, we’re not that bad.” Jack gazed down at him.

Gabriel deadpanned.

“Alright, alright, we are that bad.” Jack smiled.

“Worse,” Gabriel said. “We already sounded like shit separately. I’m fucking surprised we didn’t shatter the mirror together,” he motioned to the medicine cabinet above the sink.

“I don’t know Gabe, maybe we did. I think I see a crack.” Jack’s smile grew wider when he saw Gabriel smiling too.

“You’re awful. I just… Jack how did we ruin this?” Gabriel squeezed him, shifting his position so he was pushed up beneath Jack’s chin.

“Too easily,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You were everything to me, and I let my own fears take you away. I–”

A shadowy hand covered his mouth, silencing before he could get going. “I am too,” Gabriel said. “And before you ask, yes this shit hurts immensely, and no I don’t give a fuck.” The hand dissipated. Gabriel got quiet. “You were wrong before.”

“About what?”

“Not being able to fix this. Telling the truth would be a good start. That goes for me too. No more hiding shit, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because I know there are things you’re not telling me.”

Jack tensed.

“You did that earlier, went stiff as a board, practically heard your heart skip when you mentioned Imogen Thorpe’s name. There’s more to it than the shit she told you while I was laid up, isn’t there?” Jack’s breath stalled. “Jack? I’m not angry right now, not at you, I just want to know because she fucked with me too, probably others.”

What could he say? It had been years and Jack still wasn’t over it all, tried not to think about it most of the time. He sighed heavily, knowing he’d probably been running for far too long, and if he had to confront it, then at least he wasn’t doing it alone. “A day before your hearing all of the evidence vanished from my computer, Thorpe’s too she’d claimed, wiped from the servers. I trusted in the UN then, why wouldn’t I have?” He scoffed. “They had a tech run an examination of everything, confirmed a hack. Thorpe said it had to have been your doing, and I considered the possibility, knowing how skilled your agents were, how skilled you were.”

“Still am.”

Jack rolled his eyes, “She insisted on my protection. The UN guards were her idea, not mine… and…” He bit the inside of his bottom lip.

“That was the start of your isolation,” Gabriel said. “I remember trying to talk to you once, only to be rebuked by your assistant, saying I needed a god damn appointment when before your door was always open.”

He nodded. “She convinced me to help investigate you. We bugged your office, your computer, and your quarters.”

“Which I found. Made me paranoid as shit.”

“She would tell me that what I was doing was right, that it was for the greater well-being of Overwatch. Thorpe would ask me personal questions. There were things she shouldn’t know about us, but somehow did.”

“Not surprised. Overwatch was full of moles for Talon. So was the UN.”  

“She made me question my feelings for you on a daily basis. Made me wonder if you’d been using me the whole time, and once the ideas were there I couldn’t let go of them no matter how much I wanted to. They ate away at me Gabriel, and it was like that for years.”

“Isolate. Distort reality to fit the story. Manipulate and control. Jack she…” Gabriel lifted his head to stare at Jack with a look that spoke volumes. _I didn’t know. I didn’t see._ His hands were no longer on Jack’s back, but had moved to instead grip his shoulders.

 “Let me finish.” He cupped Gabriel’s cheek. “She would sometimes bring new evidence, but it was never enough to go after you, constantly looking for the big, damning piece that never came. It was a stalling tactic, but I was too consumed to realize it then. I don’t think she expected the Blackwatch document leak. I didn’t either. The public reaction was vitriolic; everything went to hell for both of us and I don’t think I ever came down from panic mode.”

“I…” Gabriel averted his gaze.

“That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel wasn’t the type to become frantic, but when he spoke, his words raced, “I wasn’t thinking about you Jack, or what it would do. I just wanted to take it all down by whatever means I had at the time. After Voronov tried to kill me, it felt like every day could be my last. I made some shitty choices, sure, but fuck Jack, I didn’t have Thorpe lording over me. Everything I did was of my own volition, but you–”

It was Jack’s turn to cut Gabriel off, hand sliding to cover his mouth. “No. Please don’t try to take away from the seriousness of what I did to you Gabe.”

Gabriel grabbed his wrist and removed Jack’s hand. “Fuck that. I know how hard on yourself you are. She fucking _used_ you Jackie.”

“And it wouldn’t have worked if I hadn’t already been emotionally compromised. She started while you were still in surgery…”

“Do not try to justify any of her shit. Jack.” Gabriel’s hands were at the base of his neck, thumbs pressing into his collarbones. He shook Jack weakly. “She made you a pawn. That’s what we both were: two pieces locked in endless combat until they decided we were no longer amusing. You can’t take that blame Jack, you can’t.”

Jack gently grabbed the back of Gabriel’s head and pressed their foreheads together. “It’s okay. Please don’t try to lessen my actions.” He felt Gabriel start to shake his head, but Jack held firm. “What happened to us, it started long before Thorpe got to me. Thorpe didn’t make me stop seeing you when you got hurt and ended up in the medical ward. Thorpe didn’t make me avoid you in the halls on base because I was ashamed. Thorpe didn’t make me refuse to confront my fears about losing you. Thorpe didn’t make me fight with you. Thorpe didn’t make me a coward. I’ve always been that, especially with you. It’s because I…” He couldn’t finish, but he wanted to, so much so his chest ached.

Gabriel’s voice cracked again, “Jack, please don’t do this to yourself.”

“I hurt you. I own that. I’ve hated myself for it since you died.”

Gabriel’s palm was suddenly pressed up against his chest, against the dog tags that hung from Jack’s neck. “Is that why yours aren’t here?” Jack dropped his hand, letting Gabriel pull back a bit. He looked to be on the verge of tears again.

“They are where I thought they should go,” Jack replied. “I may have buried them at your grave site. There’s a planted Siberian Iris above them. Not your usual flower, but I needed something that would survive the winters at Arlington. You gave me one once on our first mission to Russia.”

With a gentle tug of the dog tag chain, Gabriel pulled Jack into a kiss. In the radiant warmth of his lips, Jack found an apology and a promise: _I’m sorry you went through that, and I won’t let it happen again._ Jack deepened the kiss, keeping Gabriel close. He would do anything to take away his pain. _I’ll find a way to help you Gabriel._ They remained locked in passion for a while until Gabriel shuddered and settled back into his spot against Jack’s chest.

“You alright?” Jack asked, idly playing with Gabriel’s curls. “You’re warm again,” the temperature of the tub water had only gone down a little as far as Jack could tell, though it could just be the scalding water burned all of his nerves away. He glanced at his burned scarred hands. _Wouldn’t be the first time_. “Not to mention you’ve been moving a lot.”

“Better than before. The food was good,” he replied.

“I’m glad. You’re still hurting though… worse than usual?”

Gabriel nodded.

“Don’t worry Gabe, I’ve got you.” Jack assured. _Always will._

“I know. I just wish you’d say the same about yourself… I worry about you. Can you promise me something?”

Jack was silent, waiting for Gabriel’s question. Whatever it was, (though he had an idea, as it wouldn’t be the first time the subject of help had been brought up in their relationship) he intended to agree.

“When we’re done this,” They both knew the other wouldn’t want to pause, “I want to look into getting you healthy. If you don’t want me to be around for it, that’s fine, but I still want you to do it, especially now that you’re free of your… obligations.” Gabriel growled the last word.

 “I will,” Jack took his free hand an entwined it with Gabriel’s, “and it’ll be best if you’re with me.”

“ _Bueno, mi luna._ ” Gabriel rubbed Jack’s hand with his thumb. “You keep giving me gifts, and I have yet to get you anything.”

“I have what I need right here. I don’t need more.”

Gabriel chuckled, but left it at that. Jack didn’t ask him if there was more he wanted to say. In that moment, he didn’t really care. Gabriel was safe, alive, and feeling better, and to Jack, that’s what mattered. “Did you want to go watch a movie? Water’s making me wrinkle.”

“Really, I couldn’t tell. You already have so many.”

Jack snorted and splashed Gabriel’s face.

“Hey, watch it asshole, you don’t want to play this game with me.”

“I mean, I could.” Jack smiled. “You’re not really in the condition to fight back.”

Gabriel feigned a wince. “Low blow Jackie.”

“It’s up to you Gabe: a one-sided water war, or movie time. Take your pick.”

Gabriel stared at him and shook his head. “Get me out of the tub.”

Jack planted a quick kiss on Gabriel’s nose before lifting him out of the bath. He set Gabriel on the edge, making sure he wasn’t going to fall before grabbing a towel. He dried himself off quickly then took his time toweling Gabriel, mindful of the remaining open wounds. Jack expected a snide comment during the process but received only relaxed silence. When he was done he found a pair of bathrobes hanging on gold hooks by the doorway. Jack put one on, helped Gabriel into the other, and carried him bridal style out of the bathroom.

Gabriel slung his muscular arms around Jack’s neck, “Forward!”

“Someone’s in a better mood.”

“What can I say, I like pampering.”

Jack brought them back into the bedroom, stopping in front of the partially ruined bed. “You kind of did a number on it.”

“I did indeed… Sombra said she bought out the floor, yeah?”

Jack nodded.

“Let’s move rooms then.”

“Good plan.” Jack headed to the nightstand, leaning down so Gabriel could swipe the keycard off it. They left the honeymoon suite and entered the nearest room. “Why am I not surprised our key works here too?”

“Knowing Sombra it works on everything in the building. She really does work magic. Get used to it.”

Jack carefully set Gabriel onto the bed. The room was smaller than the other, but he didn’t mind; he was just happy to be able to spend time with Gabriel, and was even happier knowing Gabriel still wanted to.

“Comfy?” Jack slid beside him, shoulders touching, and grabbed the remote. It didn’t take long to find the hotel’s movie library.

“Really? Using a remote?” Gabriel was sneering at him.

Jack side-eyed him, “What?”

“Gesture controls _are_ a thing these days.”

Jack scoffed, “Gabe, the last time we used gesture controls we ended up cycling through every channel five times, put the volume loud enough to shake the walls, and woke up half of Watchpoint Gibraltar.”

Gabriel shrugged, nudging Jack with an elbow, “At least no one heard us fucking.”

“Yeah but they heard everything from the porn channels.” Jack resisted the urge to nudge Gabriel back.

“Ours were better.”

Gabriel looked incredibly smug and Jack had no intention of letting that continue, aware of what it could lead to. He may have been feeling better, but Gabriel was in no condition to do anything other than sit around. “What do you want to watch?” Jack asked. “Your pick.” He paused, knowing exactly where Gabriel’s mind just went. “No porn.”

“Oh, shot down.” Gabriel held out his palm, gesturing with his fingers, and Jack set the remote into it. Gabriel then started scrolling through, and it didn’t take him long to settle on a choice, which was, thankfully, not porn.

“Beetlejuice?” Jack said with a chuckle. “That takes me back. You dressed up as him for Halloween one year, didn’t you?”

Gabriel grinned and in his best Beetlejuice voice said, “I’m the ghost with the most, babe.”

Jack laughed and Gabriel joined him.

“That was eerie Gabe. Sounded just like him.”

“Pretty fitting now, huh?”

“Yeah, you two seem to share the same fashion sense.”

“Careful,” Gabriel warned, “or I’ll feed you to a sandworm.” He hit play, snuggling up against Jack, head resting on his shoulder.

A warmth settled in Jack’s chest. _For once_ , he thought, _things were going to be alright._

**END CHAPTER 17**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: "Get in the fucking tub Jack."
> 
> Thanks to Luke for the feedback on this one. Enjoy your angst and gut-wrenching fluff. I headcanon Gabriel as an old horror movie buff and a giant dork.
> 
> We are actually roughly halfway through this story, at least by my mental outline. Still rotating between this one and EV, but I absolutely plan to finish this, so, thanks a ton to everyone who's stuck with me this long.


	18. On The Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two hearts embark on a journey.

Jack had fallen asleep in his lap. He’d lasted through Beetlejuice and three Hellraiser films before he was pulled down into a hopefully restful slumber. It was for the best. Gabriel figured if his eating habits had been shit then so were the others; he needed the rest. Gabriel was glued to the holocaster, watching the fourth Hellraiser, claws resting in Jack’s soft, white hair.

“Why are you even bothering to finish that?” Sombra asked, having appeared sitting atop a lamp on the bedside table. Gabriel could barely tell she was using the holocaster’s projector to do it.

“I’m not wasteful, both by habit and by design,” Gabriel replied, still focused on the movie as he drank strawberry ice cream from a half-gallon container. “Not my fault Jack insisted on eating the whole thing only to zonk the fuck out a few scoops in.”

“What about those?” Sombra motioned to the six other empty containers strewn about the bed, one of which had fallen on the floor.

“All me.”

“You can’t taste it.”

“I can pretend,” Gabriel shrugged. “I figured if I drown them in things I remember being delicious, then maybe these little assholes will give me a break.” He glanced at her. “Need something?”

“The names would be good,” she said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

 _Ah, of course._ He’d managed to parse them out from the mire of memories he’d received from consuming Hugo Whitney, though almost everything else in his head was still an utter mess from those: a bombardment of color, of feeling, of sound. The films were welcome distractions, but weren’t enough to prevent him from thinking about what had happened to Jack.

They’d both been manipulated, both been used for the gains of others, but Jack had never been mentally healthy, despite his urgings to the contrary. Thinking about haw bad Jack must have been in the years leading up to the explosion made the revelation about the strength of Thorpe’s hold worse. If Gabriel had possessed the ability to become ill, he would have. She’d had taken Jack at his weakest, and made the man who was once Gabriel’s everything into an unrecognizable shell.

And Gabriel had helped him get there.

He’d pushed Jack away, said things he hadn’t meant out of anger, and given Jack the impression that he’d stopped caring about him before it all literally went to hell.

 _We abandoned each other… What did I do?_ Gabriel looked down at Jack, who was still asleep, still peaceful, using his lap as a pillow. He was snoring a little; something Gabriel had gotten used to over the years, zoning it out in favor of being lulled by his lover’s heartbeat. Jack was the kind of person who could fall asleep in five minutes, while Gabriel always took longer, hours sometimes, but it had always been better when he was with Jack. _And I’d like to keep it that way._

Jack had given his apologies, laid his sins bare, and Gabriel planned to do the same. “Gabe?”

“Hmm?”

“ _Los nombres_.”

“Taysir Safiy Hajjar, Callisto Santori, Emmeline Bonnel, Debra Fray, and,” he paused, fingers gripping Jack’s hair, but not enough to stir him awake, “Imogen Thorpe.”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Sombra said. “I can’t say I’m surprised she survived Zürich. Going to tell Jack when he wakes up?”

“I plan to– Wait. How did you…?” Gabriel’s upper lip twitched. “ _Sombra_.”

“ _¿Que?_ ” Sombra shrugged. “You didn’t explicitly state that particular conversation was off limits, and I wanted to know what happened in Switzerland. That’s prime information.”

Gabriel growled.

“Don’t be upset _Rey en Negro_.” She held up a finger. “My curiosity keeps you out of trouble.”

That he couldn’t deny.

“Also, you only gave me five names. There should be six.”

Gabriel shook his head, “Whitney had five.”

Sombra frowned, but nodded. She knew Gabriel was never wrong about the information he received from souls. Didn’t mean she was happy about it though. “ _Mierda_.”

“I’m sure we’ll get it when Jack and I kill the others.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of dining on scum?” Sombra asked with a smirk, leaning forward.

“But this will be the best quality scum. Considering how long I’ve been waiting, I’d even consider them delicacies.”

“Mmm, I think you may be stretching it there.”

“I’ll let you know.” Gabriel’s grin tugged at his scarred mouth, showing his gleaming razor-sharp teeth. “Did you need anything else to find them? I have a wealth of information.”

“It’s not fun if you hand me everything, Gabe.” He noticed she’d started calling him that, or just Gabriel, instead of Reaper, since Jack came into the picture. It felt normal, humanizing even, for his friend to use his real name. He liked it. “I’ve got their faces. I’ve got satellites. I’m already scanning as we speak and with my program it’s just a matter of time before I get a hit, but, why rush? You still have some vacation time.”

“Do I? Has König asked about me?”

“Of course. I told him you’re having a pain episode, which he quickly took as a suitable answer. He seems to have a clear recollection of the last one you had while on base, as fun as it was.”

He nodded. Gabriel remembered too. He’d been taken over by it in a busy hallway, and had eaten eleven Talon agents before he managed to drag himself back to his quarters and lock the door. He didn’t come out for three days.

“So,” he rapped his claws atop the bedspread, “I take it you heard everything?”

“ _Si_.”

He didn’t speak, wasn’t sure what to say, really. He and Jack had ripped each other open and clawed at wounds that had never really healed. After that Gabriel didn’t feel he had much left to give on the matter.

“Can I ask you something?”

Gabriel paused the movie. Sombra didn’t ask for permission; she just did. He looked right at her hologram. “What’s up?”

“What do you plan to do when this is over? When you’ve laid waste to your enemies and avenged your death? What then?”

His attention immediately went to Jack. Until recently there hadn’t been an after; not even an inkling. When Gabriel had started his quest for revenge, for justice, he’d accepted it may somehow lead to him dying again. He hadn’t cared about his own fate, or a future, but that had changed…

“I’m not sure,” he smiled a bit. He hadn’t allowed himself to delve into those memories in ages. “Maybe retire, do what Jack and I always talked about.”

“Oh?” Sombra set her elbows on her thighs and rested her chin in her hands. Gabriel assumed she was sitting on her control console back at base. It was actually rare to see her using her damned chair. Apparently the first time they’d met she did it for “dramatic effect”, preferring to either sit in weird places or stand most of the time. “Tell me about it.”

“Don’t you know? You’ve read the files.”

“The files don’t have everything, and I’d like to hear you.”

“You’re not normally this wistful.”

Sombra grinned, “Best take advantage then.”

Gabriel’s hand rested atop Jack’s head. “It was in our stolen moments; in the twilight, in the dawn, bloody and sweaty after a battle, or safe in bed in each other’s arms. Was nice, thinking about places to settle down, going over where we’ve already been and where we’d like to go. I was always partial to somewhere warm, preferably below the equator.”

“Eh, you’d probably be fine anywhere now, so long as there’s not snow. I know how much you love blizzards.”

“Don’t get me started Sombra.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, cackling. Sombra then motioned with her chin. “What about Jack? Where did he want to retire to?”

Gabriel smiled. “Jack had a lot of different places in mind, but he said he didn’t care in the end, so long as we were together.”

“That’s not what I said,” Jack spoke, voice gruffer than usual and addled by a drowsy undertone. He yawned. “My exact words were: there’s no place you can choose where I wouldn’t want to go with you, Gabe. To be by your side, to grow old together, it’s all I could ever ask for out of our retirement. That and at least three dogs.”

“Of course,” Gabriel shook his head, “can’t forget our theoretical children.” His voice was soft, “Hey.”

Jack turned so he lay on his back instead of his side, gazing up at Gabriel with half-lidded eyes. “Hm?”

“Is all of that still true?”

“Every word.” Jack smiled warmly at him.

Gabriel smiled back, caressing Jack’s forehead with his thumb. “I know we always joked about it, but I’m not against the farm.”

“It snows in Indiana.”

“I’ll make an exception for you.” Gabriel leaned down, at the same time lifting Jack’s head, and kissed him. He missed being able to do that whenever he pleased, and the idea of it being a regular occurrence made him feel serene, even as pain pulsed through his body. It had dulled significantly after consuming Whitney, but the overall feeling of weakness remained.

Jack returned the kiss, and when they broke it he said, “You taste like strawberry ice cream.”

“There are worse things,” he glanced over his shoulder and gave Sombra a nod. She nodded back and her hologram left. “I need to talk to you Jack.”

Immediately, Jack tried to sit up fully, but Gabriel gently pushed him back down.

“Gabe–”

“I’m okay,” Gabriel assured, knowing where Jack’s mind was. “We’re okay. I just had some time to think is all.” He watched Jack relax, though the worry never left his eyes. “Jackie… I’m sorry. What Thorpe did… she wouldn’t have been able to if I hadn’t hurt you, if I hadn’t pushed you away, left you vulnerable…”

“Gabriel.”

“No. You owned what you did, and now, so am I.”

Jack only nodded.

“You were right before, I did try to avoid you, and I kept myself walled off almost all of the time when our relationship started to really degrade. I didn’t want to face you because it meant coming to terms with the shit I was feeling, so I bottled.” He shook his head. “Fuck, I bottled everything all the time, and when you tried to talk to me or help me, sometimes it just became too much and I burst. I channeled everything I was feeling into anger, not because it was right, but because it was easy. Jack… I got so tired of fighting myself that I fought you instead.”

“It didn’t help that I escalated it, even if the topic of our argument was utterly pointless in the grand scheme of things,” Jack said.

“Doesn’t matter.

“It does though. I knew your flaws, like you knew mine, and we picked each other apart

“What I did wasn’t right. I should have just… talked to you, like I am now, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so many years to do it.”

“It’s alright Gabe–”

“No, it’s not. It’s fucking not. Jack,” Gabriel took Jack’s hand and squeezed it tight. “I said some horrible, nasty, vile shit to you _just because I was angry_. Thatt’s so… awful. Please, don’t try and tell me that what I did was okay. It never was and never will be. Just, let me do this.” _It’s not your fault._

Jack fell silent, waiting.

“Do you remember when you were giving that speech in Rome? That was the day when I…” _Beat a man to death._ He squeezed his eyes shut and felt Jack’s fingers shift to entwine with his.

“I remember,” he said quietly. “You were hurting, and you wouldn’t let me in, not like you needed.”

“I know. I wanted to, Jack, I wanted to so badly but I… I fucking couldn’t. I was pissed at so many things that day, and the sting of that fucking promotion was still there. I don’t know why I couldn’t let it go. Maybe it lingered so I had something else to hide behind; just another excuse to throw at you.” Gabriel looked away. “What the fuck was I doing?” _I was a coward too._ He tried to blink away tears. “God, I insinuated that you used your looks to get the Strike Commander position.”

Gabriel wasn’t expecting Jack to chuckle, and looked right at him. The lovable idiot was smiling. It broke Gabriel, tears falling unbidden, because he knew Jack was trying to make light of things to hide how he truly felt.

“I’m not that pretty anymore Gabe,” he said.

“Jack… you can’t laugh this off,” he said quietly.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to lessen what you’re saying, I’m just…”

“Trying to lessen the hurt.”

He nodded.

“I’m so sorry Jack. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I knew it wasn’t like that. _You_ weren’t like that. If anything, you were fiercely loyal, and compassionate, and caring, and I just…” Gabriel covered his face and he felt Jack sit up to pull his hands away. He was still smiling. Gently, he took both of Gabriel’s hands and planted soft kisses on his knuckles.

“I love you, Gabriel,” Jack said. “Your mistakes haven’t changed that.”

“Jack… I…” _I’m not worthy of it… I’m…_ He shook his head quickly. No. He _was_ worthy, and so was Jack. “Neither have yours. I love you too, Jack. That never really went away, even as Reaper.” Gabriel smiled, briefly pulling away from Jack to wipe his tears with the back of his hand. “I don’t want you to forgive me.”

“I…”

“I don’t deserve it, nor do I want it.”

He could tell Jack was already mentally denying that request, but he gave Gabriel a quick nod all the same. He appreciated that Jack was trying.

“You know,” he poked the bridge of Jack’s nose, running a finger over the larger of the two scars that cut through Jack’s face. “You’re still as handsome as you always were.” Gabriel smiled. “I never told you, but there was always a part of me that was so proud of you for getting that promotion. Circumstances aside, you earned it as much as I did.”

Jack looked away from him. “I still feel guilty, but, I can’t disagree. I wanted it Gabe, as selfish as that may be.”

“It’s not selfish to want what you deserve.” Gabriel was about to move Jack’s chin with his thumb when Jack made eye contact on his own.  Gabriel continued, “I apologize for making you think otherwise. I was… harsh on you because I was upset. Again, that’s no excuse.”

“I tried to fight for you,” Jack said. _I knew. I remember. I ignored it._ “You were in command. You led our strike team to victory. You saved the world and what did you get?” Jack’s grip on his hand tightened.

“Nightmares,” Gabriel said solemnly.

“It wasn’t right.”

“None of what happened to us was. The stress of your position… it broke you every day, and I didn’t do enough to mend it.”

“You helped Gabriel,” Jack assured. “I promise you did.”

Gabriel nodded.

“I saw what Blackwatch did to you, how it changed you. I should have done something more than just comfort you when you’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming.”

“There wasn’t a lot we could have done. We were never in control.”

Jack pulled Gabriel into his embrace, squeezing him, but not nearly as tight as he could, mindful of his healing body. “We are now.” He nuzzled the side of Gabriel’s neck with his nose.

Gabriel let out a content sigh, a puff of smoke leaving his lips. “Did Sombra ever tell you about who was pulling our strings all of those years?”

“She didn’t. Is it more than Talon?” Jack asked. Neither of them felt like moving.

“No, but the entire fall was orchestrated by their governing body, the Directorate. There are six members. Whitney gave us five. Sombra will get us everything we need to find them.”

“Five people for our lives and the countless others lost at Zürich. Seems like a fair trade.”

“You still good with this?”

“Absolutely.”

There was no pause, no hesitation from Jack, and it was all Gabriel needed to hear. “We’ll start when I’m well again.”

“Together,” Jack said.”

“Together,” Gabriel replied.

* * *

 

It took a few more days before Gabriel was able to walk without help, and by then Sombra had compiled dossiers on all five targets. He had yet to tell Jack about Thorpe, though it wasn’t for lack of want. This was the first vacation Jack had taken since, well, probably the last time the two of them had real time off, and Gabriel wanted him to enjoy it.

And Jack had, as far as he could tell. He was eating regularly, sleeping soundly, and smiling daily; a significant improvement  from when they were first reuintied.

“Almost done?” Gabriel put his forearms across Jack’s shoulders to lean on him as he peered over the top of his head.

“Would be faster if someone would quit distracting me,” Jack said, words lacking any bite. He sat at a desk in their hotel room, pulse rifle in pieces as he meticulously cleaned it. A tablet was pushed up against the edge near the wall.

“I admit,” Gabriel slid a hand under Jack’s shirt, brushing the pad of his finger over his nipple. “I could be doing a better job.” The shudder he felt from Jack had him grinning, but before he could continue Jack had stood up, nose inches away from his.

“There’s going to be plenty of time for that later,” he said, throwing his arms around Gabriel’s neck, blue eyes staring from behind a pair of glasses.

His grin widened.

“I read the four dossiers Sombra sent… She doesn’t seem like the type to forget, so I was wondering, was there a reason I didn’t get the last one?”

 _Right. That._ “Well…” he scratched the back of his head.

“Gabriel.”

“You should sit down Jack.”

“I’ll stand thanks.” Jack took a step closer into Gabriel’s space so their chests pressed together. “What is it?”           

 _Don’t lie to him; you promised, and he’ll find out eventually._ Gabriel sighed, squeezing Jack’s forearms. “Thorpe didn’t die in the explosion.”

Jack stared at Gabriel in silence, expression blanking, and for the first time in a long while Gabriel couldn’t tell exactly what his partner was thinking.

“Jack?” Gabriel asked, feeling him pull away to sit back in the desk chair. “Say something.”

He didn’t, affixed on the floor.

“Jack?”

“Where is she?”

“Ottawa under an alias. I’ll get you the file.”

“Two of our targets are in Europe, one’s in Africa; I’d like to take care of them before we deal with the rest.” Gabriel could hear the Strike Commander voice muscle in.

“Jack, are you alright?” _Of course he’s not._

“I will be, Gabriel. I just need time to process. I can’t… I can’t deal with her right now. I don’t have a clear head.”

“I understand,” Gabriel said. Jack didn’t want to be a liability. He wrapped his arms around Jack, a wordless reminder that neither of them was alone anymore. He thought he saw a slight upturn in the corner of Jack’s mouth before he focused his attention on cleaning and reassembling his pulse rifle.

Several tendrils of smoke extended from Gabriel’s form to grab a nearby chair, which he pulled up beside Jack. Whenever Jack was ready to go, Gabriel would be too.  

 

* * *

 

Jack tried to push all thoughts of Imogen Thorpe out of his mind for the time being. He should have been thrilled at the prospect of her finally paying for her crimes, and part of him was, but, stronger, was the part that wanted nothing to do with her. He’d have to deal with his fear of her; couldn’t let it get in the way, couldn’t lose his focus. He shook his head. At least he’d have some time to sort through his problem.

They’d decided to start with Taysir Safiy Hajjar in Cairo, the owner of the Jewel of Ptah tea company, the largest in the area. It made for excellent cover for Hajjar’s smuggling operations, dealing in all sorts of contraband, dirty money, and, sadly, people. Someone very important to Jack had been working on taking his empire down, and as much as he wanted to tell Gabriel, Jack didn’t know how to go about it. Gabriel hadn’t exactly reacted well to Jack seeing his face, and he was certain this reunion would go just as well, if not worse.

He’d been mulling over options as he walked to a private hangar at Dorado’s airport beneath the scorching sun. He wore casual clothes: jeans, a button-down, his boots, and a Captain America baseball cap. The only new addition was a pair of sunglasses he’d bought from the hotel gift shop with Gabriel’s money (who’d repeatedly insisted it was fine). The rest of his gear was in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“So, uh, Jack. Don’t be mad.” Gabriel’s voice echoed. Unless someone looked closely it would be impossible to tell that Jack’s shadow was swarming.

“Why would I be?”

Gabriel chuckled as Jack input the code into the keypad near the hangar entrance. When it opened Jack pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jack asked, blinking.

“Probably.”

“What the hell Gabe.”

Parked in the hangar was a completed version of the XSR–90 Swiftshade, an experimental stealth jet scrapped at the blueprint stage due to lack of budget and the fact he and Gabriel couldn’t agree on which division of Overwatch was going to get it. It had been a hot point of contention in their relationship for at least a year.

“Hey, I warned you.”

“How did you even build this? We were the only ones besides Torbjörn who knew about it, and after it got shelved the plans were secured on my computer.”

“Yeah, about that.” Gabriel appeared beside him in his Reaper garb, sans mask with the hood down. He had a hand on his hip. “I may have hacked your computer and downloaded your entire hard drive. Keep in mind this was during the whole “I think everyone is going to kill me” era before the explosion.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at him, “You hacked me?”

“Wasn’t hard, time consuming maybe, but not hard. You’re the absolute worst at personal security, and Ramirez, the old Blackwatch tech specialist, taught me well. It also helps that you’re eternally sappy, meaning predictable.” He held up a clawed gauntlet, counting off with his fingers, “First password was my birthday, second was the start date of the SEP, and the third was the date of our first kiss. Birthday was easy, since you use that for almost every login. The other two took some guessing.”

As much as he wanted to, Jack couldn’t be angry with him.

“As far as this baby,” Gabriel gestured to the jet. “It was mine and Sombra’s summer project a few years back. Remember how I healed your shoulder?”

“Yes…” It still bothered Jack that Gabriel had killed someone to do it, but the feeling was much less than it had been. He felt disconnected from it… almost. Jack had no issue with what Gabriel had done to Hugo Whitney, or with their plans to end Talon’s Directorate. That lack of compassion, even for the guilty… What was he now? What had the years of war and loneliness made him? Sombra may have been right. There was only one monster between the two of them. Jack mimed for Gabriel’s hand, and when he found it, squeezed tight, as if Gabriel was going to fade away.  

“Jack?”

“Just keep talking.”

“Sure. Well, I bought several stolen military craft and Frankensteined them together with my abilities according to the blueprints. Sombra did a lot of the technical work.” Jack didn’t say anything and Gabriel laughed nervously, “I promise it functions just fine. I’d never do anything to put you at risk.”

It was then that Jack dropped his bag, tossed his sunglasses, and hugged Gabriel, burying his face into his shoulder, arms around his torso. “I’m so happy I found you again.”

He felt Gabriel return the embrace, hand on the back of Jack’s head. Gabriel kissed the top of it best he could. “Me too.”

Jack didn’t have to look at him to know Gabriel was smiling.

“I’d lost myself for too long. Figures you’d be the one to bring me back,” Gabriel said. “You always did… I know you said you were fine before Jack, but I wanted to make sure. Once we’re on that jet, I’m calling the point of no return.”

Jack remained where he was. When he spoke, he made sure his tone was light; he didn’t want Gabriel to feel bad about his words. “I think I already hit that point when I caught Hugo Whitney for you to eat. I’m ready to close the book on our pasts, so maybe we can have that future we always wanted.”

“I’d like that,” Gabriel said.

Jack lifted his head and found Gabriel’s lips, warm again, like a furnace. Jack was glad to know Gabriel was alright, though he hesitated to use the word healthy. Gabriel, by medical standards, wouldn’t exactly be considered alive.

“You ready to fly?” he asked, smoke flowing from his mouth to Jack’s.

“If you can get it off the ground,” Jack motioned with a nod, more curious than actually serious. He knew Gabriel had experience with a few aircraft from his Blackwatch days, but none of them were anything like the Swiftshade.

Gabriel grinned, “That a challenge?”

 _Sure was._ Jack had been chauffeured everywhere as Strike Commander, had no piloting skills to speak of. He gave Gabriel a quick peck and went about collecting what he’d dropped, taking Gabriel’s hand again as the two strolled over to the stealth jet. It was matte black, with an elongated nose, and delta wings. Gabriel opened the side door for Jack and ushered him inside. The cabin was cozy, probably cramped when it was full. There was seating on either side of a thin aisle with enough room for six men in total.

“Cockpit has space for two if you want to sit with me.”

He stowed his gear in a compartment behind one of the seats and joined Gabriel in the cockpit. They strapped in, Gabriel did his pre-flight checks, and soon they were out of the hangar and onto the tarmac. He seemed intensely focused on his task; probably more so because he wasn’t the only one on the plane anymore.

Jack closed his eyes when he felt the plane speed up, angle of their ascent forcing his back against the seat. Flying was never a source of anxiety for Jack. If anything, it had made him feel free; no longer tethered to the many problems he’d left back on the ground. It was nice, he mused, that it still had the same effect, though that may easily be due to the man beside him.     

“Hey Jack,” a hand landed on his forearm, rubbing it a little.

“Yeah?” He opened his eyes to find they’d reached cruising altitude, open blue sky around them, clouds beneath them.

“We’re airborne. What was it you said? ‘If you can get it off the ground’,” He sneered. “I’m made of billions of tiny machines, a living computer; can’t beat that shit,” Gabriel flipped Jack off. “Suck it Morrison.”    

Jack raised his brow. He stood up and took Gabriel’s wrist, slowly dragging his tongue up his middle finger before engulfing it with this mouth. He sucked on it for few seconds, leaning down just enough to quickly brush his fingers over Gabriel’s crotch as he turned towards the cockpit door, “Oh I would, but not when you’re flying, captain.”

Before Jack knew it Gabriel had him pinned to the cockpit door, knee against Jack’s inner thigh, pressing into his growing erection.

“It’s on autopilot now, smartass,” Gabriel leaned in, trailing kisses up Jack’s neck. “Ready to join the Mile High Club, Jackie?”

Jack chuckled and the corner of his mouth ticked upward. “If you recall,” with a hand against Gabriel’s chest he quickly reversed their positions. “I’m already a card-carrying member.” Gabriel had fucked him while airborne several times in the past. “You however,” he nipped at Gabriel’s earlobe while his hands worked to undo all of his belts, “still need to earn your wings.” And it was about time he returned the favor.

“I would almost mock you for how lame that was if I wasn’t so god damn horny,” Gabriel said. His clothes disappeared in a haze of smoke, and he dangled a small bottle of lube between two fingers. “Lucky you.”

Jack freed his own cock from his pants, lifting Gabriel higher against the wall, fingers digging into his firm ass cheeks. Jack was suddenly glad they were the only ones on the plane.

 

* * *

 

He left Gabriel, who was too blissed out to bother moving, in the cockpit, slumped in the pilot’s seat with his Reaper coat as a blanket. Jack had gone back in the cabin to rummage through his duffle bag for his tablet to re-read the dossiers. As he did he noticed a blinking purple _calavera_ on the inside of his visor. _What does she want...?_ He almost didn’t answer, but remembered he still needed the dossier on Thorpe, so, with a sigh, he put his headpiece assembly on and snapped the visor into place.

Sombra’s voice immediately spoke in his ears, “Took you long enough _soldado_.”

“What is it Sombra?”

“You have messages,” she said and a little envelope icon popped up with the number ‘32’ overlaid on top of it.

“Shit. Oh fuck.” He went to knead his brow only to realize his visor covered it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. She must think I’m dead.” Jack was quickly overcome by a wave of guilt. She was the last one, other than Gabriel, that he wanted to worry.

“She did, but I handled it.”

“ _You what_.”

“Ah, see for yourself.”

A recording with a modulating sound wave popped up.

“…Who are you?” Ana’s voice. “Where is Jack?”    

“On vacation,” Sombra replied.

“Where is Jack,” Ana said again in a protective tone that made him feel both proud and terrified.

“Alright. Hold on _abuela_.” A video screen appeared showing a close up of himself fast asleep, using Gabriel’s chest as a pillow. Sombra had taken great care with the feed, blurring out any detail that would give away Gabriel’s identity. “See, he’s fine. Look at that peaceful smile.”

Ana was silent for a moment. “Who is he sleeping with?” She sounded suspicious, confused eve. Ana knew Gabriel had died. She’d been Jack’s ear and shoulder to cry on ever since he’d found out she was still alive, and was fully aware of how devastated Jack had been over the loss.

“Eh, that’ll be Jack’s decision to tell you. Not my place on that one.” Sombra cut the recording. “From there we argued for a while. She tried to get information out of me.” There came a cackle. “Seriously? Can you believe that? If only she knew who she was talking to.”

Jack sighed. He had a lot of explaining to do. “I need to call her,” he said, thinking aloud.

“On it.”

“Sombra. No. Don’t.”

Of course, his effort was in vain.

“Jack?”

“Hello, Ana.”

“Jack! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days.”

“On vacation,” Jack replied.

“See,” Sombra chimed in. “I told you.”

“You again. Jack, who is she?”

“Ana this is Sombra. She’s an,” he wasn’t sure he considered her a friend, “ally.”

“Ouch,” Sombra said. “ _Creí que eramos amigos_.”

“Not quite.”

Sombra laughed. “I suppose that’s fair. We haven’t known each other nearly as long as I’ve known Gabe.”

Jack tensed. _God damn it Sombra._ He’d intended to ease Ana into that revelation.

“Gabriel?” Ana said. “Gabriel is…” Her tone went flat. “He’s not dead, is he?”

“Oh no, he’s pretty dead–”

“Depends on your definition,” Jack said, sighing.

“Jack.”

“It’s a long explanation, and some of it isn’t mine to tell.”

“Do what you can then,” she said, voice reassuring. He knew Ana would allow him to go at his own pace, as much as she wanted, and deserved to know everything.

“Gabriel did die at Zürich Ana, he just didn’t stay that way. I,” he took a deep breath, “found him again in Dorado. I don’t want this to come out wrong. He’s still Gabriel, but he’s not the same man.”

“None of us are the same as we were.”

“I know, but Gabriel may not want you to see him. He barely let me. Gabe has… been through more than you or I, and I don’t want him to get hurt again.”

“Hmm, I take it you two finally talked.”

“Yes.”

“Ana scoffed and he could picture her grinning. “It’s about time.”

“Long overdue,” Jack admitted.

“I will also assume you have yet to tell him about me.”

Jack nervously cleared his throat. He’d been meaning to do that, but had forgotten, too wrapped up in the bliss of having some long overdue alone time with Gabriel.

Ana sighed. “Do so. He is one of the few who should know.”

Aside from Jack, Fareeha was the only other who knew Ana was still alive, and Ana hadn’t wanted to tell her, that urge to protect her daughter ever present, but Jack had made a fair case (she was Helix Security Chief after all, perfectly capable of handling herself), and, eventually, she caved. They’d had a private meeting in person, away from prying eyes and ears. Ana said it went better than expected. Jack knew there was more, but he hadn’t asked. Ana would tell him when and if she was ready.       

“I will.”

“Whatever Gabriel wishes to do after he knows I live is his choice, and I will respect it.”

“I’m just…”

“You’re worrying again.”

“I know. I don’t know how he’s going to take it.”

“That is not something we can control. I am part of his family, Jack, and so are you. I am here for him if he needs me, and I will give him space if he does not.” He heard her sigh. There was no exasperation, only contentment. “It’s good to hear he’s alive. Are you both doing alright?”

“We are.” Jack felt good saying it.

“That’s all I could ask for. Did you get what you were looking for in Dorado?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“I’m listening.”

“We found out who took down Overwatch, who killed Gabriel, and who nearly killed me: Talon’s governing body, the Directorate. Taysir Safiy Hajjar is one of them.”

He’d expected a reaction from Ana, but she was silent.

“Gabriel and I are en route to Cairo now. Sombra, what’s our ETA?”

“At your current speed, about five hours.”

“Let me know when you arrive. I’ll be sure the safe house is stocked. Be safe Jack,” Ana’s next words were spoken sweetly. “Oh, and the next time you ignore your messages, the consequences will be dire.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Understood.”

“I look forward to seeing you again. Both of you. _Ma'is salāma_.”

As soon as Ana left the call Sombra said, “Oh, you’re in deep shit Jack.”

“Can it.”

Sombra just laughed at him.

It was going to be a long flight to Cairo.

**END CHAPTER 18**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean to take this long to update. Whoops. Sorry about that. Hey, Ana's finally in this story. Next chapter will get the gang back together.
> 
> Tags are updated. I plan to go back into previous chapters and fix the Spanish punctuation. Any errors with anything feel free to tell me. Thanks to Luke for his airplane knowledge and Wade for the translation help.
> 
> http://kerrigore.tumblr.com


	19. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting the band back together.

The feeling of the wheels touching the runway jarred Jack awake. He raised a hand to wipe away sleep, and then the line of drool trailing down his chin, grateful Gabriel was flying the plane so he didn’t have to hear the onslaught of old man jokes about him having taken a nap.

Jack waited for the plane to finish taxiing before standing to stretch as best he could with the relatively low ceiling, setting his tablet and visor on the adjacent seat. He heard his bones pop. _More fodder for Gabe._

He glanced at the cockpit door, having expected Gabriel to be in the cabin already, as they were safely parked in what he guessed was another private hangar. _Odd._

“Gabriel?” Jack approached. Met only with silence, he decided to try humor, “I didn’t tire you out too much did I?” Nothing. Without another utterance he went for the door, and the first thing he noticed when he opened it was the outpouring of black smoke, rolling into the cabin like fog over the ocean. “Gabe?”

He was in the pilot’s seat, fully clothed again, face buried in his knees, which had been drawn to his chest, hugging them tightly. His hood had been put up, keeping him completely hidden from Jack.

“Hey,” he cautiously reached out to put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Jackie,” he croaked. He’d been crying… “Why didn’t you tell me she was alive?”

 _Oh._ Gabriel didn’t sound angry at all, which was good, but Jack felt his chest constrict at the utter devastation in his voice and the thought of his lover in pain again. “I had planned to.” He leaned down and wrapped his arms around Gabriel, tugging at the leather of his coat as his hold tightened. “I’m sorry you found out this way.” This wasn’t at all what he’d intended. “I take it you overheard?”

“Hearing is a sense they deem useful. Gets amplified sometimes.” _Shit._ “I… I heard every word from all of you. Fuck. Jack.” Gabriel tried to draw into himself more as he started sobbing, and before Jack could pull him out of the shell he’d created Gabriel shifted into smoke and guided Jack to the floor so his back was up against the cockpit wall. Gabriel partially reformed on top of him, clinging and crying into Jack’s chest. His bottom half was just a mass of darkness, coils of shadow winding around Jack’s limbs and midsection, as if to prevent him from leaving. He would never. “Ana…”

All Jack could do was sit there and hold him, hoping it would be enough. _It has to be. I should have told you sooner..._ But, there was no guarantee Gabriel would have reacted differently, even if Jack had been able to ease him into the revelation. He sighed.

“Ana,” Gabriel repeated.

Jack noticed Gabriel’s hood was still up, but he didn’t try to take it down. He knew the reason. The fact Gabriel was hiding his face by keeping it pressed into Jack’s right pectoral only served as further confirmation.

“I don’t know what to do Jack,” Gabriel managed through sobs.

“It’s okay Gabe,” Jack tried his best to comfort Gabriel, slowly reaching beneath the hood to rub the base of his neck and shoulder, coil around his bicep loosening enough to allow him to do so.

“I want to see her,” his voice cracked, “but I don’t want her to see me.” He shook his head. “ _No puedo permitir que me vea asi. No puedo. No puedo_.” He continued to cry, trembling. “How could she? I was alone. I was so fucking alone Jack and both of you…” Gabriel laughed, stilted, eerie, enough to make Jack tense at the sound. “You were both still alive.”

Gabriel then let out a noise that bordered on inhuman; a wail that seemed like it came from every nanite in his being, and he started to come apart in Jack’s arms. Jack, for once, didn’t panic.

“It’s okay Gabe. It’s okay,” he spoke as calmly as possible, trying not to show how much resolve he was using to not break down too. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m right here. Always will be. I promise.”

“Jack…” Gabriel’s voice was an echo.

“I’m here.”

“Jack.” He sounded closer that time.

“Come back to me.”

Gabriel’s form slowly settled, coalescing, returning to Jack, and Jack held him, trying to keep Gabriel grounded by his presence. His sobbing slowed after a while, the shaking leaving with it, though Gabriel still clung to him.

When he spoke again, it was almost soft enough to miss, “I don’t think I can do this again. I’m tired Jack. I miss her, but I don’t want to feel like this again.”

“I understand. It’s your choice how you want to handle it. Neither of us will think any less of you.”

“Why did she…” Jack felt Gabriel’s clawed fingers dig into his chest. At some point he’d taken off his gauntlet gloves. “Why did she leave us?”

“That’s a question I think she should answer.” Jack knew already, but it wasn’t his place to say, no matter how much he wanted to.

Gabriel nodded a little, though Jack assumed he was wondering if things would have been different if Ana hadn’t... He remembered how angry Gabriel was, accusing him of leaving her to die, and the rift that had already been growing between the two of them became a chasm. But, that was the past, and it wasn’t worth staying there when he had other things to focus on, the most important being in his arms.

Gabriel nuzzled Jack’s chest and Jack slowly pulled his hood down, running a hand through greying curls. Wisps of smoke rose from them, interrupted by his touch. Jack looked down at Gabriel. He had all of his eyes peacefully closed. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t,” Jack said. “She found me a few months ago. Saw me on on the news. When I asked about it she told me: ‘There is only one man I know who would break into a high security facility to retrieve his favorite gun in his Halloween costume.’ Then she shook her head at me.’’

That got a small chuckle out of Gabriel. He murmured, “Jack Morrison, Master Vigilante, strikes again. You really are fucking predictable.”

“Only to you guys.”

Gabriel looked up at Jack. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Staying with me.”

“Kind of hard to get away with you wrapped around me like this,” Jack replied with a smile, making certain to assure Gabriel he was only kidding. Still, he felt Gabriel tense.

“I’m not hurting you am I?” he said.

“No,” Jack shook his head. “I like it when you’re clingy. It always made me feel better; reminded me I was important to you.”

“You always were.” He felt Gabriel squeeze him tighter. “And here I was thinking you’d find this weird.”

“Guess I’m figuring out how much I like weird.”

“Sap.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Gabriel playfully socked him in the shoulder.

Jack feigned a wince, “Ouch. That almost hurt.”

“I can do better.” The smoke coils shifted, wrapping around Jack’s arms to keep him pressed against Gabriel’s body. Gabriel then proceeded to bop and prod Jack with some of the coils.

“Stop,” Jack laughed, not at all serious. He twitched as one jabbed his side. “Gabe, you ass!”

Gabriel kept prodding him, joining in the laughter at Jack’s squirming reactions. It was only when Jack started to wheeze did he relent. Gabriel’s hand was rubbing his back then, his hold released, and he was looking at Jack, beaming. Jack knocked their foreheads together, ungracefully, and probably too hard but neither of them cared. God, it was wonderful to see Gabriel smile, sharp teeth and all.

He waited until he’d caught his breath to try speaking, “Someone’s feeling better.”

“Hard to stay upset when I have you around,” Gabriel said.

When Gabriel kissed Jack, locking him in the passionate warmth of his lips, the unspoken gratitude; it sent Jack’s body alight. He loved this man, had followed him once into Hell to save the world and was going to do it again to find their Heaven. They’d get what they were owed; Jack would make sure of it.

“Jack,” Gabriel said softly, clawed fingers caressing his cheek as he sat in Jack’s lap. “I need to see her.”

“I know.”

“Does she…” His gaze angled downward, smoke filling the space between them, drifting from his mouth, from the holes in his face. “Does Ana know I’m Reaper?”

“No,” Jack shook his head. “And her opinion of that part of you is…” he took a deep breath, “unfavorable.”

“Not surprised,” Gabe smirked a little, “I have a reputation.”

“You do. I also may have told her about our previous encounters before we…”

“Found each other again.”

“Yeah,” Jack said.

Gabriel fell silent, dropping his hands in his own lap, staring at them. “You’re with me?”

“Yes.” Jack firmly put his hands on Gabriel’s biceps. “I’ve got you Gabe.”

Gabriel nodded, shifting into smoke. He reformed standing over Jack and offered his hand. Jack took it. He was pulled to his feet.

“Better let her know we’re here then,” Gabriel said.

Jack nodded and leaned in to kiss Gabriel again before heading back to the cabin to get his visor. A set of coordinates flashed on the screen inside along with the words ‘ _Muy lento, soldado’_. He frowned at it.

Gabriel’s clawed gauntlet landed on his shoulder. “Wonder if Sombra’s got Ana swapping stories with her yet?”

Jack grumbled.

Gabriel let out a cackle, rumbling low and letting it build in an over the top fashion.

“You have way too much fun with that,” Jack noted, packing up.

“No such thing as too much fun Jack, at least in my case,” Gabriel drifted in front of him, tip of a claw tapping Jack’s nose. “You, however, could do with a little less…” He pointed to Jack’s shirt.

Jack looked down to notice Gabriel had put holes in it. He sighed, taking it off, and dug around in his bag for a new one only to have a certain button-down catch his eye.

“Seriously?” Gabriel said.

He held out the shirt between them. It was ocean blue with yellow and orange Stegosaurs in sunglasses patterned all over it. They were amongst bright green palm trees and happy, smiling suns. Fareeha had picked it out for him when they’d all taken a group vacation. She’d been thirteen then.

“Where did you find that?”

“Watchpoint LA.” Jack motioned with a nod, “Check the bag Gabe.”

Jack watched Gabriel poke through his duffel and pull out another shirt. This one was like Jack’s only royal purple with red T-rexes instead. “Heh,” he chuckled. “So you found this and not one of my hats?”

“It was in my closet too.” Jack shrugged. “No luck with the beanies. Trust me, I looked for one.”

“Not hard enough then.” Gabriel said jokingly. He then quirked a brow, focusing back on Jack’s shirt, “You weren’t planning on wearing yours were you?”

“Not to go to the safehouse, no, but…” Jack glanced at Gabriel. Their eyes met and they grinned simultaneously. Jack threw his shirt on and Gabriel turned to smoke, solidifying in his, coat nowhere to be seen. He buttoned the shirt over his armor with a deftness Jack didn’t think was possible considering the gauntlets. “You know Gabe, it’s not the shirt that makes you look ridiculous, it’s the rest of the outfit.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Fuck you Jack. I look fantastic.”

“Mmm yeah. I bet you’d strike fear in the hearts of all of the Directorate members.”

“Don’t tempt me Jack. I will absolutely wear this to a kill.”

Jack’s brow elevated and Gabriel responded with a cocksure grin, chin up, hand on his hip, completely owning the space. In his other hand he spawned a shotgun, holding it up near his face as he blew smoke from the barrel, which Jack didn’t question. It didn’t take long for them both to burst out laughing. Though, Jack caved first.

“You haven’t changed Gabe,” he said between laughs. “Still the most showy person I’ve ever known, and I love you for it.”

Gabriel howled, doubling over. It took him a bit to regain himself, but he eventually said, “Love you too, _cariño_.”

Jack could only smile as he changed into a khaki button-down, putting his dinosaur print shirt back in the bag. He held out a hand, expecting Gabriel to return his shirt too. Instead, he absorbed it and reformed his Reaper coat. In the back of his mind Jack hoped Gabriel had actually been kidding about wearing it in front of a Directorate member…

“Jackie.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to meet you at the safehouse. Sombra can show me the way. I need to…” He paused for a moment. Jack figured out what he was going to say almost immediately. _Does_ _Gabriel still think I view him negatively over something he can’t control?_ “I need to feed.”

Jack nodded. “Alright. Just be careful.” There was more he wanted to tell him: ‘Don’t be too long’, ‘I’m not upset with you or disgusted by you’, ‘Everything will be fine’, but before he could Gabriel swiftly moved into his space, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and left the cabin a burst of smoke, door opening for him.

Jack stared at him as he slithered out of sight. Irrational worry crept into this thoughts. _Stop._ Gabriel was perfectly capable of handling himself. Jack was just… afraid of something happening to him, of losing him again. They’d only just gotten back together and the thought of–   _Get it together Jack. Gabriel’s not exactly easy to kill. Stop thinking and move out._

Steeling himself Jack checked the coordinates again, stowed his visor in the duffel bag, and left the plane.

 

* * *

 

Jack had recognized the location Sombra had given him. It was a safehouse he’d been shown when Ana or rather her alias, Shrike, had first found him. It was in Cairo’s waterfront district near the Nile. Once home to thriving businesses, everything had been bought out by the Jewel of Ptah tea company, ransacked, and left to rot. Most of the shops were derelict, home to those who hadn’t had one in a long time.

He stuck to the back alleys, ignoring wanted posters and faded flyers from Overwatch days, some only partially clinging to sandstone walls. The building he was looking for used to be a cafe. The back was easy to recognize: there was a stone ramp for the loading dock, whose door was outlined in yellow. Above was a painted sign of a crocodile wearing a chef’s hat beneath worn Arabic script. Jack snuck in through an unlocked employee entrance, hanging a right into the cellar.

As he passed empty shelves, remnants of broken crates, and discarded garbage, he saw, at the back, a tapestry of the Egyptian God Horus. It was charred at the bottom and had a few holes as if it had been rescued from a fire. Jack lifted the fabric to find nothing behind it, but he knew better, and reached up to place his palm flat on the wall where the Eye of Horus on the tapestry would have covered. A panel slid open at chest-height revealing a keypad.

Jack typed in Fareeha’s birthday and a cut of the wall slid backwards then into a slot on the left. _I’m not the only sentimental one Gabe._

He strode down a short flight of stairs, hidden panel closing behind him as he reached an armored door, which had been left ajar.

Unlike the Talon one Jack had stayed at, the main room of Ana’s safehouse was much more cozy. There was a couch with sunken cushions, a matching armchair, and a battered coffee table in front of him. A digital board was mounted on the left wall. Below were some munitions boxes, likely confiscated weapons, first aid kits, and a few crates with the Jewel of Ptah logo on them.

When Jack stepped over the threshold onto a red arabesque carpet that covered most of the floorspace he felt the cold touch of metal against the back of his neck.

He smirked a bit, “Still angry?”

“A little.” Ana’s voice. “You’re fortunate I don’t consider you an intruder,” He heard the door close behind him and she side-stepped into his field of vision. She was mostly dressed in her combat gear, though she’d taken off her coat, ammo belts, and gloves, bright blue hijab glowing against her silver hair, “or else I wouldn’t have held you up with a spoon.” Ana showed him a small spoon used for scooping sugar cubes.

Jack chuckled and she pulled him into an embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she said. “Don’t worry me like that ever again.”

“I won’t, and I’m sorry Ana.” Jack closed his eyes and pulled her close.

After a moment, Ana slowly pulled back, making eye contact with Jack, “Where is Gabriel?”

“He’ll be here soon. Gabe had something to take care of.”

Ana nodded and didn’t press for any further explanation, walking through a beaded curtain to the right. Jack followed, finding himself in a kitchen with walls lined with full racks of rations, boxes upon boxes of teas, and cooking supplies. A kettle on the stove was heating up, and Ana had a tea set on the counter with three cups ready and waiting. He didn’t have the heart to tell her Gabriel probably wouldn’t want his.

“Sit,” Ana said, motioning to a small, circular table.

Jack dropped his his bag in the corner of the kitchen and obeyed.

She sat opposite of him, crossing her legs. “You’d mentioned Taysir Safiy Hajjar was Talon?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d known that much, but nothing of his involvement in the collapse,” She frowned. Ana had found out about what had happened to both of them from new reports, and was forced to endure their bias, especially about Gabriel. “Aside from him, how many other Directorate members are you and Gabriel aware of?”

“Four others in terms of who we have information on”

“I see,” Ana said, leaning back in her chair.

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all.” She steepled her fingers, setting her hands on her lap. “I’ve already made my decision.”

Jack quirked a brow.

“I’m not blind, you know. It’s obvious you boys are going to wipe them all out, and you’re going to need someone to save your asses when things inevitably go sour.” She shrugged. “May as well be me. A return to form I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else watching our backs,” Jack said. “Though, I didn’t expect you’d agree so quickly.”

“Please, it took how many years of my encouragement for you and Gabriel to finally talk about your problems, and you think, somehow, I’d be able to talk you out of this?” Ana laughed a little.

“Doesn’t sound like you,” Jack folded his arms, “giving up so easily.”

She smirked. “Unlike some people, I know when to pick my fights. Am I wrong?”

“Well…”

“Jack.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Thought so. Besides,” the tea kettle went off and she stood, “these people have done enough damage, hurt enough innocents, and destroyed my family.” Ana calmly poured her and Jack a cup of tea, serving his before returning to her seat. “I believe this will be overdue.”

“You have no idea,” Jack sipped his tea, recognizing the type immediately. “ _Karkadé._ ”

“I felt it appropriate.”

“It’s good, like usual.”

“You flatter me, Jack.”

Jack chuckled, hearing the metallic groan of the safehouse door followed by the slam of it closing. “Gabe?” He called.

No answer.

“Gabriel?” Ana said.

Still nothing.

Jack and Ana exchanged suspicious glances, setting aside their tea. Ana quietly grabbed her biotic rifle, which had been leaning against a cabinet. Jack shook his head and motioned for her to put it back as he stood, leaving the kitchen. He scanned the main room of the safehouse, eyes falling on a shadow-filled corner and the figure standing in it.

Gabriel was dressed in what would be normal casual wear for him before he became Reaper. Dark grey sweatpants hung around his hips, hands jammed into the front of a matching hoodie. His face was mostly obscured by his hood, though he couldn’t do much about his glowing red eyes. Jack immediately got close to him, placing his hands on either side of Gabriel’s face.

“Hey,” he said, offering a smile.

“Jack?” Ana entered the room.

“It’s okay Ana. It’s Gabe,” Jack pressed a kiss to his forehead, lowering his voice to say, “You’ll be alright.”

Gabriel nodded.

Jack stepped back, giving Ana a clear view. Gabriel wasn’t looking at her. Instead he stared at the floor. Her eyes widened, and she gasped a little, but as she approached him, her expression softened, not reflecting pity, but compassion, heartbreak for what had happened to her friend.

“Gabriel…” Ana cupped a hand around his jaw, over the destroyed flesh, her fingers brushing one of the many holes in his face.

He flinched, but didn’t pull away, all of his eyes focusing on her.

Ana carefully moved her hand up so it rested over his cheek. She was careful not to cover any of his eyes.

“What happened to you Gabriel?” She asked.

Gabriel didn’t answer immediately. Tears welled up, and when he spoke his voice cracked, “Ana… I died.”

He broke then, leaning down to press his face into Ana’s shoulder, and she held him without hesitation. Gabriel’s arms hung limp at his side. Jack was uncertain if Ana had noticed the claws, or the increasing amount of smoke that was drifting off Gabriel, distorting the shadows he'd been trying to hide in.

“Where did you go?” Gabriel said, choking back sobs. “Why did you leave us? We… we fell apart without you.”

 _And without each other._ Jack frowned, arms crossed over his chest. He was fighting the urge to comfort Gabriel, but knew he needed to wait.

“I did not mean to.” Ana sighed, pulling Gabriel as close as she could, hand on the back of his head. She let him cry for a while, soothing him with soft encouragements, until he’d calmed some. “My injury was severe. It took a while for me to recover, both physically and spiritually. The people who helped me survive, well, I got caught up in their troubles, and the troubles of this city and those neighboring. By the time I felt I could return home, there was nothing left to return to.” Ana fell silent, bowing her head a little as if in reverence for the dead. “Seeing what happened on the news, what happened to you and Jack… I lost far more than I was prepared for.”

Gabriel slowly returned her embrace, hands splayed on her back. Jack hoped he didn't blame Ana for her choices. None of them could have predicted, or stopped, the Zürich explosion. Jack had come to terms with that, having realized how strong the Directorate’s hold was. The fact Ana hadn't been on base had likely saved her life a second time.

“So did I,” Gabriel said, voice steadier than it had been. “I need to show you something.” He pulled away from Ana, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Gabriel then took both of Ana's hands in his, turning them palm up. “Look at me, please.”

Ana nodded. “Of course Gabriel, what did you want to show me?”

Jack watched as Gabriel’s Reaper mask formed in Ana’s hands.

“Gabriel… what?” Ana asked, no doubt confused by the sudden weight.

“Look down,” Gabriel said.

She did. Jack wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of a reaction, but Ana fell silent. Gabriel just watched her, patiently waiting.

“You’re Reaper…?” Ana met Gabriel’s gaze.

“I am.” Gabriel’s Reaper gear formed from his smoke, which was coming off him in waves, no doubt due to apprehension.

“You have some explaining to do,” she said simply, though she clutched the mask. “I was curious why there was smoke coming out of your face… What about the rest? You’re running hot Gabriel, are you ill?”

“No,” he shook his head. He exhaled an exasperated smoke puff. “What Jack told you wasn’t wrong, I’m sure.” Gabriel didn’t know what he’d said, but none of it was good. Jack had been honest with Ana; informing her of Reaper’s abilities, the injuries he’d sustained, and how much he’d despised the mercenary. “I worked with Talon, still do, and I’ve done terrible, regrettable things since I died and was… brought back.”

“How?”

“Angela. She was desperate and tried something,” he growled, “experimental. It gave me life again but did,” he swept his hands over his body in indication, “this. I’m not really human anymore… I’m made of nanomachines. My body is in a constant state of regeneration and decay, and I… I hurt Ana. All of the time. And when I first became this monster… when I took the name and mantle of Reaper, I let the notion of my growing inhumanity consume me, losing Gabriel Reyes in the process.” Gabriel looked to Jack, and held his hand slightly away from his body. Jack nodded and went over to him, taking it, standing by his side. “Jack brought me back.”

Ana smiled. “I’m so glad he did.” She dropped the mask with a clatter, and pulled them into a group hug, which he and Gabriel happily obliged.

“You’re not…” Gabriel said. “Bothered at all by the claws or the extra eyes?”

“Are you?”

“I…” Jack felt Gabriel squeeze his hand once. “No, I guess I’m not,” he admitted.

Jack beamed at his words.

“You are still Gabriel Reyes, regardless of the form you take,” Ana said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Jack?”

“I mean, if I have to,“ Jack replied with a shrug. “He’s still a pain in the ass.” Jack lightly hip-checked Gabriel, “That didn’t change.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a pain in your–”

“Boys,” Ana said. She clapped them both on the shoulder. “Save the celebrating for later. We have a terrorist organization to uproot, correct?”

“That we do,” Jack said.

They broke the group hug.

Gabriel smirked. “You managed to convince her to join our merry band of miscreants pretty quick there Jackie. I’d have thought your negotiation skills would have been as rusty as your joints.”

Jack jabbed him in the side with his elbow.

“Don’t start Jack. You know how this game ends.” Gabriel warned, cracking his knuckles. Jack saw some of his smoke temporarily shift into tendrils.

Ana shook her head. “I had made up my mind before Jack arrived. Leaving you two to your own devices is...” she put a finger to her chin, “irresponsible. I cannot allow such a thing.” Ana’s fingers splayed across her chest, and she spoke matter of factly, “I am the oldest.”

“And the best looking, out of the three of us,” Gabriel said, showing off his sharp teeth in a wide grin.

“Gabe,” Jack grumbled.

Gabriel laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek. As he pulled away he spoke into Jack’s ear, tone soft, “You know you’re the prettiest person in this room, and you’ve only gotten better with age.”

“Didn’t think you had a thing for sour old men,” Jack replied, turning to take both of Gabriel's hands.

“Didn't think you had a thing for smoke monsters.”

“Guess I'm trying to be the fun one in this relationship.”

Gabriel laughed again. So did Ana. He clapped both of Jack's shoulders and walked away from him.

“What?” Jack looked at Gabriel then at Ana. “What.”

“You were never the fun one Jack,” she said, completely serious.

“Hey, screw you guys.” Jack said, nearly yelling. “I'm plenty of fun.”

“About as fun as dumping a bucket of scorpions down my pants,” Gabriel said.

Jack folded his arms, “You'd probably like that.”

“ _Boys_ ,” Ana slung an arm around Gabriel's neck, pulling him downward. She then led him over to Jack and slung her other arm around Jack's neck too. “Focus please.”

“Yes Ana.” They grumbled in unison, though both of them were smiling. It was wonderful to have their trio back together again, and they all knew it.

“Good.” She let them go. “Now, I assume there's a plan for getting to Hajjar, considering at least one of you is a master tactician.”

Gabriel stuck his tongue out at Jack, and Jack was quick to return the favor.

Ana sighed, pinching both of their tongues at the same time. “I know from experience he's a difficult man to reach, as he's often secure in Ptah Tea’s headquarters downtown. His security is almost impressive.” She let them both go.

“Thanks Ana…” Jack muttered.

Gabriel didn’t say anything, instead replying by holding up two fingers, between which formed a portable holographic projector. He flung it on the coffee table, and the room was suddenly filled with blue light and three dimensional constructs of downtown Cairo, centered around the Jewel of Ptah’s building. Sombra appeared sitting in the middle of the couch.

“Alright _viejos,_ listen up. Here's the plan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Ana and the three of them together. I do plan on doing more development with them, especially delving deeper into Ana's seemingly calm reaction to Gabriel being Reaper/what happened to him. There's always more than what's on the surface.
> 
> Luke beta read this. <3
> 
> Again, and I probably don't say this enough, but thanks for sticking with me and this story. I do really appreciate everything I've received on it.


	20. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt is on.

“How's my way in?” Gabriel asked, lurking in the shadows near the headquarters building for Jewel of Ptah Tea: a modern structure of reflective plate glass and chrome-brushed steel.

His thoughts had been in turmoil since he'd reunited with Ana. He was struggling; thrilled knowing she was alive too, but at the same time mired by the idea of having been abandoned again. She and Jack were both guilty of it, and no matter how he tried to rationalize their actions, to accept them, to empathize, it still hurt. It hurt more because he loved them, because they were family.

_Now’s not the time._

Gabriel stowed his problems, and slipped back into a more focused mindset. As best he could anyway.

“En route,” Sombra replied. “You got eyes on them too Ana?”

“Confirmed,” Ana said. She'd taken up a sniper’s nest a few buildings away. “Dare I ask how you managed to convince all of those people?”

It hadn't exactly been difficult. There’d been splintered groups of protesters (their own words; Gabriel knew better) against Jewel of Ptah for years, and all it took was the right bit of motivation to get them to come together.

They'd dressed up Jack in a very expensive business suit, under the cover of interested competition, keeping him in a shadowed corner of one of the nightclubs downtown during their arranged meetings. Gabriel had stayed wrapped around him, constantly obscuring his face as he pitched his offer to each group, easily, almost worryingly, returning to his old Strike Commander demeanor. The offer, of course, included large sums of money and a way to get the dissenters onto the grounds.

“Why Jack's dulcet tones and my dashing good looks,” Gabriel replied.

He heard Jack chuckle over the com, and Gabriel couldn't help but picture his face; a face he'd be able to wake up to every morning once they'd wiped out the Directorate. Jack was in position for the backup plan in case their ‘new hires’ didn't deliver.

“Fifty meters and closing,” Ana said.

The group of people, a couple hundred in total, marched down the street to the side entrance, in plain view of security. Some held signs. Many chanted. Any weapons they carried were hidden.

“The guard staff has been alerted and are mobilizing to intercept at the gate,” Sombra informed.

“Affirmative.” Gabriel said, waiting.

It was midday. He would have preferred to go at dusk, to kill Hajjar in his home instead, but they'd agreed that getting access to the company’s network was too important to pass up. Ana had previously infiltrated his residence, and found nothing of interest, not even a personal computer. Sombra had profiled him as being a bit paranoid, and Gabriel trusted Ana's findings; she always had the best eye for detail.

Gabriel watched as the mob neared the gate, met by security. The fence separating them fell easily by their hands (his nanites had had a feast weakening the structural integrity the night before). A fight broke out. It wasn’t long before the mob overpowered security through sheer numbers, and, as agreed upon, an incendiary device was thrown, striking the cargo of a parked and otherwise empty delivery truck.

Thick, black smoke poured into the air, wind carrying it into the ventilation shaft on the side of the building. Gabriel wasted no time, becoming smoke himself and joining with the plume. He used it as cover as he surged forward, through the laser grid, through the closing iris of a security door. He recalled with precision from Sombra’s briefing where he needed to go in order to get to the network core, weaving through the air ducts until he dropped into the correct room.

When he did, he expanded, nanites pulling the excess smoke to fill the room with a haze, though it concentrated in specific areas to black out the cameras. Gabriel was quick to deliver Sombra’s bug, and it wasn’t long before she had full control of the building, her _calavera_ briefly flashing on the terminal screen.

“Took you long enough,” Sombra’s voice echoed in his ear.

Gabriel scoffed. “That was under thirty seconds.”

“Twenty eight point two. You’ve done faster. Probably would have alerted security if they weren’t already busy,” she said. He heard her snicker, “I take it you’re not completely focused.”

“Thinking about me, Gabe?” Jack said, quick to jump in.

“You wish.”

“Don’t have to wish. I know what goes on in your head.”

“That makes two of us,” Sombra interrupted.

“Three of us,” Ana added.

Sombra laughed. “Open books, right _abuela_?”

“Unfortunately.”

Gabriel grumbled. “We’re not _that_ bad Ana.” Though he knew he was wrong as soon as the words left his mouth.

Sombra did too, because she continued talking to Ana, dismissing him, “You up for more stories later? I found some more choice candids in their files.”

“Oh? Which?”

“Gabe's got a pumpkin on his head.”

Gabriel heard Ana chuckle, “You'll love that one. It got stuck.”

“Later,” he said swiftly. “Jack, where are you?”

“I'll be there soon.”

“Guiding him into the building now,” Sombra said.

Ana cut in, “The mob has broken into the lobby. The authorities are on their way. You’re in my sights Jack. Be careful.”

“Always am.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I can think of at least one hundred scenarios off the top of my head where that hasn’t been the case.”

“And I can think of a hundred more,” Ana added.

“I’ve got it,” Jack said, gravity in his tone.

Gabriel said nothing more. Neither did Ana. They both knew Jack could handle himself, but the worry was there. Jack had always been rash when he had a loved one to protect. But, Gabriel assured himself, there shouldn’t be a reason for that: Ana was at a distance, the ever watchful Horus, and Gabriel wasn’t exactly easy to kill... The risks to their personal safety were minimal, the mission was thoroughly planned out, and even if Jack’s martyr complex had survived Zürich, he knew how important his own safety was to Gabriel. _At least I hope you do._

“Sombra,” he said. “Where's our target?”

Sombra didn’t answer with anything but a non-committal hum.

“Problem?”

“Mmm… _uno pequeño_.”

“What is it?”

“The target isn’t here.”

Gabriel tapped his talons against the terminal. “Then where is he?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not getting any hits on the cameras, or in the network, for that matter. This is so strange… His name is on nothing. _Nada. El no existe._ This guy doesn’t even have an e-mail. _Who doesn’t have an e-mail?_ _Even the dead soldiers all have e-mails_.”

Gabriel snickered under his mask. “I bet mine’s cooler than Jack’s.”

“Not a chance Gabe,” Jack said. “I’m almost to your position.”

“I’d be happy to settle this contest when we find our ghost,” Sombra said. “As I’m, clearly, the most impartial one here.”

“When I see you next I’ll bring you all of the rice pudding you’ll ever want to eat,” Gabriel said flatly.

Sombras response was instant, “Gabe wins.”

Gabriel laughed.

“Like hell he does,” the door to the network room slid open and Jack entered. “But we’ll finish it later. Any luck locating Hajjar, Sombra?”

“About as much as the chance you have at winning, Jack.”

Ana chuckled over the com.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re taking her and Gabriel’s side Ana,” Jack said.

“I know better than to get involved,” she replied. “It’s just good to hear you two speak again.”

Gabriel looked at Jack and could picture the forming smile on his lover’s face behind the visor. “Sombra, how can he not be in the building? You tracked him this morning.”

“I did, and he hadn't left as far as I could tell. I'm going back through today's security footage now, but he's not on it.”

“Something on their system that scrubs him from the recordings?”

“That’s what I'm thinking,” A mechanical popping sound came over the com. Gabriel recognized it as Sombra cracking her fingers. “Haven't found it yet, but if it's there, I will.”

Gabriel knew she would. “Is the path to his office clear?”

“ _Sí_. Our distraction is still working their magic.”

“Jack.” Gabriel motioned to the door with a nod, “Let’s go.”

“Repositioning to cover your ascent,” Ana said.

For all of Gabriel’s teasing, Jack was every bit of the soldier he used to be, and more. They moved swiftly through the building under Sombra’s direction, together, Jack an extension of Gabriel, and Gabriel an extension of Jack. It was like they'd never left the battlefield, or each other.

Hajjar’s office was on the top floor, and was surprisingly sparse and low-tech. A wooden desk was set to the right, walls covered in full bookshelves and framed pictures of sailboats. To the left were windows, angled in slightly, giving a stunning view of Cairo. A couch and a few lounge chairs were facing out towards them. A small table was positioned between the windows and the couch, on which sat a fancy cream-colored tea set with floral lace patterns.

“Get the desk,” Gabriel said. “I'll search the book cases.”

Jack nodded.

Gabriel became smoke and wove through every book, nanites searching for anything hidden within their pages. He came up empty. So did Jack. There was no sign of a computer, anything written or otherwise to indicate where Hajjar had gone. By the end of their failed search Gabriel was standing in the middle of the room, thinking, while Jack was sitting on the couch with his head tipped back.

“You're frustrated,” Jack said.

“No shit Sherlock.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Come sit with me.”

“There’s not really time for that right now.” Gabriel said with a growl.

“Says the man who was joking over the com earlier,” Jack shook his head. “We have control of the building, our target is in the wind; may as well take a moment to think.”

“Jack.” It was unlike his partner to be this… relaxed during a mission. From what Gabriel had observed of Jack as Solder 76, he’d seemed more reckless, more determined to use whatever he could to win (within reason, it still _was_ Jack, after all); not someone willing to take a break.

Jack sighed, “You're used to having near perfect intel with Sombra.”

“I take pride in it,” she chimed in.

“You saying I'm spoiled, Jack?”

“Go ahead and tell me you're not. I'll wait.”

Gabriel said nothing, arms crossed, talons tapping against his biceps. He had basically been given the world with Sombra at his disposal. Even back in Blackwatch the information hadn't been _that_ good.

“The point is,” Jack continued. “Ana and I’ve had to do our own intel gathering, and sometimes it's not always usable. We don't have infinite resources, and have had little to nothing to go on, and, sometimes, stopping to just take everything in brings clarity.”

“I never thought you'd actually take my advice Jack,” Ana's voice said over their coms.

“First time for everything. Now, come sit with me Gabe. Sombra and Ana have us covered.”

Gabriel ghosted over to the couch so he was beside Jack. “I hate you sometimes,” he said with a grumble.

“Mmm, just when I'm right.”

He nudged Jack with an elbow. “Lucky I love you a lot more.”

He felt Jack rest his head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a while, staring out the window at the city and the Nile beyond. Gabriel honed in on Jack's breathing, his heartbeat, and allowed himself to relax some, but not fully.

The reason for his tension, his impatience, was beside him. The less time they had to spend tracking these shining examples of human shit, the more time they had together, away from the wars they were both tired of fighting.

It was then Gabriel realized how much he wanted peace. Even after they'd ended the Omnic Crisis, he never truly believed that was something within his grasp. But now… _We may actually be able to get it._

Gabriel smiled beneath his mask.

“We were right Gabe,” Sombra’s voice cut through the silence. “They've got a program that scrubs Hajjar and every person or object he affects from the recordings. It's pretty impressive,” by Sombra’s bored tone he read that as ‘shoddy’, “for Talon, but if they’d asked me I would have done a much better job. I'm focusing on fixing the footage in the elevator to the parking garage and the garage itself. I'll let you know if I see him leave.”

“Thanks Sombra.”

“It's eternal at this point. If I could take your soul it’d be stuck with me.”

“I know someone who’d fight you on that,” Gabriel said.

“You'd have to get me to move first,” Jack grumbled, snaking his arms around Gabriel’s waist.

“How you doing over there Ana?”

“Enjoying the view, Gabriel.” A pause. “I am truly happy for the two of you.”

“What about you? What were you thinking of doing after we're done?”

“I haven't put much thought into it.”

“When you've had nothing but time Ana…” he shook his head, tsking. “We both know that's a lie. You have people you want to get back to.”

“Yes, but that possibility is… distant.”

“I think, out of the three of us, you're the most likely to be forgiven,” Jack said.

Ana spoke softly. “I was a coward too.”

Gabriel didn't feel inclined to argue. “Yeah, well, at least you didn't do dirty work for the same terrorist group we spent years fighting.”

“Or fail an entire organization, and the world,” Jack's grip on Gabriel tightened and Gabriel placed a hand on the back of Jack's head.

“No, I just failed those who meant the most to me.”

“We all did,” Gabriel said, intending to be reassuring, to let her know she wasn’t in it alone.

Ana didn’t respond immediately, and he heard her take a deep breath. “But I won't again.”

“Sorry to cut in,” Sombra said, “but Hajjar left the building fifteen minutes after he arrived this morning.”

“And we missed him because?” Gabriel asked.

“He swapped cars, and before you complain, yes, I do have all of the registrations for his vehicles and the chauffeur services he uses, and no, I didn't see any leave the building on the street cams or satellites.”

“So he left in a car you didn't have on file?”

“Nope. I've got it, it just somehow got past my detection methods when it left the building.” She sighed. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised. These guys do control the world. For now.”

“Puts us at a dead end though,” Gabriel said, trying, and failing not to sound irritated. Sombra was entirely correct. The Directorate were completely different from the targets they'd faced in the past, at least in terms of resources and reach.

But they were all just human. And humans had common flaws. Especially ones with large amounts of money.

“Hey Jack.”

“Mmm?”

“This guy really has a thing for sailboats, wouldn't you say?”

Jack lifted his head. “More than just a thing. Think he owns one? Or twelve?”

“Sombra,” Gabriel said.

“On it.”

He stood, coat swirling around him in a flourish, and held out a hand for Jack.

“What a gentleman,” Jack said.

Gabriel pulled him into a strong hug, the face of his mask against Jack’s. “I’m a man of many talents.”

They both chuckled.

He wasn’t sure if his hunch would pan out, but it was worth a shot. Everything they were doing was.

 

* * *

 

There were two things Gabriel had remembered that day: Jack still needed more sunscreen than one white man should be able to absorb in order to not burn, and, how much Gabriel used to love the sun. Used to.

“Hold still asshole,” Gabriel grumbled, under an umbrella on the deck of a large rental sailing yacht, attempting to rub a layer of sunscreen into Jack’s back. He was using the heels of his palms, keeping his claws pulled back as best he could.

“Are you sure you don’t need help Gabriel?” Ana called, sitting on a lounge deck chair in a swimsuit and headcover. She was being served a drink by a floating omnic waiter. Another, who also been paid off, was driving.

He waved at her dismissively, “I’ve got it. Damn it Jack, your back’s a mess.”

“But you love my scars.” Jack tilted his head back, rolling his shoulders.

“Wasn’t talking about those.” He pressed a bit harder, working into one of his muscles. “You’ve got a lot of knots. Lie down.” Gabriel gently guided Jack into a chair, pulling another up another beside him.

“Gabriel Reyes breaking from mission protocol. Never thought I’d see it.” Jack said as he got comfortable on his stomach, using his forearms as a pillow.

“I can do what I want. I set the protocol.”

“That why you’re dressed for the occasion?”

Gabriel had, reluctantly, worn swim trunks… and sandals, but he still had a hooded sweatshirt on. Though, this one had a zip front so his chest was exposed at least, giving in to Jack and Ana’s demands of him not wearing his full Reaper gear and remaining below deck until they found Hajjar’s boat.

Ana had seen his autopsy scar. He was sure of it. She hadn’t commented on it, something that bothered Gabriel even though he knew it shouldn’t. _Am I really still so afraid of having others see me? Even Ana?_ He’d only recently gotten comfortable with himself, mostly, and at the same time comfortable with Jack looking, and touching again.

 _It’s just Ana._ She’d said she wasn’t afraid, or repulsed.

He took a moment to glance at her, and she raised her tea cup to him. Gabriel smiled, flashing teeth, and focused on massaging Jack’s back. He’d be fine.

“Gabe,” Jack let out a relaxed moan, “even with the claws you’re still _good_ at this.” A sigh escaped his throat, and with it all of his cares. There was nothing between them but the sound of the wind rustling the sails above, and their sailboat cutting through the taciturn waters of Lake Nasser. “Gabriel? Why are there more than two hands on my back?”

Gabriel didn’t comment about the four extra arms that had sprouted from his body, made of shadows, edges distorting in the breeze. He had massage coverage on Jack’s upper, mid, and lower back. “Because you deserve all of my attention,” he answered simply.

Jack chuckled. “Love you Gabe.”

Gabriel hummed in acknowledgment. “Of course, it's impossible not to. I’m the embodiment of perfection.”

“I’d elbow you, smart ass, but someone's making me too damn comfortable to bother.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ana get up and walk over to them. She was holding a tall glass of thick, pink liquid. There was a lime green bendy straw sticking out of it.

“Here Jack,” Ana said, standing in front of him and offering the drink.

Jack opened one eye, “What is it?”

“A protein shake.”

“Set it over there,” he gave a weak nod, motioning to a small glass table adjacent to his chair. A disc-like holographic projector also sat there.

“Jack. I can see your ribs.” Ana tilted the glass from side to side. “It's strawberry.”

Jack grunted, shifting to take the shake, which he sipped trying to look indignant. It didn't work very well.

Gabriel mouthed ‘thanks’ to Ana. “Did you want one?”

She smiled. “How can I resist a famous Gabriel Reyes shoulder massage?” Ana sat on the end of a long chair on Jack’s opposite side, and Gabriel spawned a pair of shadow hands over her shoulders, which quickly got to work.

“So I have to ask,” Gabriel said after a few moments, “is this weird for either of you?”

“Completely normal,” Jack assured.

“A little, but not in a bad way Gabriel. How are you doing this exactly?”

“It's easy for me to multitask with my nanites when I'm calm and happy,” Gabriel replied. “They function on their own, of course, but there's a lot they're capable of with a little direction.”

“And a little creativity, I’m sure,” Jack added.

Gabriel smirked, but said nothing. There would be plenty of time to get creative later.

The trio sat in a comfortable silence as their sailboat drifted across the lake, passing other vessels, none the wiser to their purpose.

It wasn’t long before their peace was interrupted.

“Found him,” Sombra said, her hologram appearing in front of them from the projector on the glass table. She motioned to Jack and then Ana. “Oh, Gabe, I’m jealous.”

“It seems I owe you a lot the next time I see you,” he said. “Where is he?”

“Hajjar’s boat is 762 meters east of our current position. I’ve instructed the captain to get us within 500 meters.”

Gabriel cracked his neck. The extra arms faded into nothing. “It’s go time.”

Wordlessly they all stood. Sombra’s hologram left, and they switched to group communicators.

Ana went back to her original seat and opened up a long case she’d set beside it, removing her biotic rifle. She then loaded in a cartridge, jet black with a mirror finish, tip colored cyan, before setting up on the starboard side railing of the sailboat.

Jack opened a similar case. Inside of his was a semi-automatic sniper rifle. He went about meticulously checking its workings before he snapped in an ammunition clip, setting up on the same railing as Ana, though some distance away. Jack then put his tactical visor on.

“I’m ready Sombra,” he said.

“You did everything I told you?”

“Yes, just connect it.”

“Alright, but if the visor blows up, that’s not on me _soldado_. Connecting you to the sight now.”

Jack let out an irritated grunt. Sombra had given him directions to wire the digital sight on the rifle to his visor on the ride over to the marina. Gabriel _may_ have helped a little.

“And it looks like we’re in business,” she said. “It’s good on my end.”

“Same here,” Jack replied. “You ready Ana?”

“Of course Jack.”

“Gabe?”

Gabriel folded his arms and grinned wide. “Let me see if you two got better with age.”

“Even if we hadn't we’d still be better shots than you, Gabriel,” Ana said with confidence.

Gabriel laughed. “I don’t know Ana. I could surprise you. It’s been a few years.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to come here and do the shooting?” She took her eye off her sight and looked right at him, smirking.

_Oh, so we're playing that game huh?_

“I mean, we could trade places.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’d be fine jumping into the water and swimming over to his boat. By the way, what _is_ your plan to handle the crocodiles?”

“Fair point. We will just stick to the jobs we’re best suited for then.” That smirk never faded from her lips as she turned back to her sight.

When their sailboat was in position, all Gabriel had to do was wait.

“There he is,” Ana noted. “Sunning himself on deck. I count four personal security guards on deck. A fifth in the wheelhouse.”

“All targets accounted for. None below deck according to satellite,” Sombra confirmed.

“Commence operations,” Gabriel said simply.

It happened within a matter of seconds. The first shot fired an EMP round into the ship’s hull, disabling communications. The second shot, a quick reload for Ana, put a hole in Taysir Safiy Hajjar’s skull. Simultaneously, Jack removed his security from the equation.

“Targets down,” Sombra said.

At that, Gabriel dove over the railing and off the side, becoming smoke as he struck the water’s surface. He glided across the 500 meter distance like a missile, shooting up the side of Hajjar’s boat to reform on deck in the same clothes he'd had on before. Sombra had control of all of the satellites in the region, and there wasn’t a single ship around that had eyes on him.

He strode across the deck, nanites in a billowing cloud behind him as they ate the bodies of Hajjar’s security, wiping the evidence clean. The cloud snaked its way into the wheelhouse while he approached Hajjar’s fallen form.

His face possessed a youthful radiance, lineless and pampered by wealth, though Gabriel knew the man was in his forties. No grey touched his dark hair, his nails were manicured, his chest was waxed, his frame was trim yet healthy. And there he was, laying in a lounge chair, a streak of crimson flowing like a river from the hole in his head, cutting across his rich brown skin.

Gabriel felt nothing for the man.

He'd had a hand in destroying his and Jack's lives. It was only right to return the favor.

_One down._

He could see the glow of Hajjar’s soul looming over his fallen form. Gabriel reached out and took it, consuming it as he had done to so many others, but this one was by far the most memorable.

In a flash he experienced Hajjar’s life, and saw, with clarity, how he'd helped destroy Overwatch. They'd been targets, and Hajjar’s had made the suggestion to insert one member of the Directorate into the UN to ‘slowly tear down the Strike Commander’. Thorpe had enthusiastically volunteered.

“Gabriel.”

He wanted the rest of them to burn like he and Jack did: Jack under the unwavering eyes of the media, Gabriel in the inferno of their fall.

He continued to focus on the memory, scanning the faces at that meeting. There was one he didn’t recognize, one they didn't have a dossier for. Yet.

_How did we miss this?_

“Gabe.”

“What,” he snapped.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked, voice clear, slowly pulling Gabriel out of his head.

Gabriel forced a few long breaths as if they would actually help calm him. “Yes and no. Sorry Jack.”

“What did you find out?”

“We have our sixth.”

“Who?” Jack and Sombra said in unison.

“König.”

“Wait really? Gabe he's too young to have been a part of the fall…” Sombra’s voice trailed, and he imagined her tapping her chin with a sharp nail, “Unless he's a vampire.”

Gabriel rolled all of his eyes. “No, not our König. His father. They have the exact same names. That's why we missed it in Whitney’s records,” Gabriel said.

“ _Hijo de puta_ ,” Sombra said.

They hadn’t even looked at their König, or his family, discounting him because, frankly, he’d been born a few years after the Crisis had ended, and would have grown up during Overwatch’s operating period. The dismantling of the organization had been a long, meticulous game. König hadn’t had the means, as far as they knew, and that’s where’d they’d slipped.

“It’s not too late Sombra,” Gabriel said, trying to assuage her frustrations. She _hated_ being wrong when the mistake was a simple one. Sombra did not make simple mistakes.

“I’ll handle it.”

Gabriel nodded and headed below deck, running his claws along the interior, but not hard enough to leave any marks. He let his nanites put holes in the hull at specific points Sombra had outlined, ensuring it would sink as quickly as possible. When he was satisfied with his work, ignoring the water pooling around his feet, he headed back up and erased Hajjar’s body.

Beside his chair was a steaming pot of tea and a cup.

_I shouldn’t let it go to waste…_

He became a shadow, engulfing the entire set up before he headed back to their boat, reforming in front of Jack and Ana who were waiting for him. Jack quirked a brow at him. Gabriel was holding the kettle in one hand, while three floating shadow hands each held an empty cup.

“Nice work, both of you.”

“I told you we haven’t lost our edge,” Ana said. Her tone didn’t waver. Gabriel still wasn’t entirely convinced she was alright with what they were doing, but, then again, maybe she was? Ana would do anything to defend her family, and none of these people were good; far from it. But, neither was he, neither was Jack

Gabriel poured the tea, offering Hajjar’s cup to Ana, who took it with a nod. He then handed Jack one of the cups he’d created before raising his own. “Mission complete. Scratch one off the list.”

“May the rest get what they deserve,” Jack said. He and Ana met Gabriel’s cup in toast.

 _Just five more._ Gabriel thought, sipping his tea with the others. _Five more and Jack and I can finally rest._

It was what he craved, and he knew he’d fight, endlessly if need be, just to get a taste.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the incredibly delayed update. I got married, and we spent a month and a half putting a wedding together. I've also been involved with the R76 BB, in which I've been doing both writing and art for. My fic for that will be up on the 17th. I'll be putting up art on the 24th.
> 
> I'm still making smug expressions at my screen for having predicted Talon's council-style governing body. Obviously there's been new lore introduced (curses for me putting up 19 right before Necropolis came out), but a lot of it isn't going to really impact the story I have planned at this point, so I'm rolling with it. For those concerned, yes, this story will absolutely be finished, and yes, I do have an ending in mind.
> 
> I sometimes blog fic progress updates here: kerrigore.tumblr.com. Feel free to bug me there. I also respond to comments here.


	21. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some kills are harder than others.

 

The man Jack Morrison used to be never considered himself cruel. The man he’d become had started to question that. Since Hajjar, two more Directorate members had fallen, and, as he stared up at the ceiling of his alcove bed, dull hum of the train in his ears, Jack found himself wildly conflicted.

They’d killed Emmeline Bonnel in the back office of her casino in Monaco along with her four Omnic body guards. The death had involved the creative use of a pool cue, a stack of poker chips, and a terrible one-liner from Gabriel about choking hazards (who then proceeded to make luck-based puns the rest of the night). Jack had no sympathy for the woman who’d thrived on blood and money. Bonnel had made a fortune from the hole Overwatch left, her dozens of companies taking over duties the organization had once filled. She’d provided the explosives, and had presented the plan for demolition to the rest of Talon’s governing body.

Her end, though fitting, left Jack wondering where he stood. The rational part of his mind, deep down, railed against the kind of vicious, violent path they’d decided to travel, yet the rest of him was strangely freed by it. He, Gabriel, and Ana were doing what they never could; no longer tied by rules and regulatory overseers, but, Jack thought, had they become the very thing Overwatch once fought against: the forces of twisted ideals always believing their way, their goals, were right? What was right anymore, really? Jack had long since crossed the line of being just a vigilante. 

Debra Fray had died in the pool of her resort in Stockholm. “Fried like a dead fish” as Gabriel had put it after they’d dropped a pair of electric pulse grenades into the water. She’d spearheaded the Directorate’s initiative to plant Talon agents in as many ranks of Overwatch and Blackwatch as possible, poisoning their recruitment pool, rotting them from the inside. And Jack had rotted too, because he’d felt nothing for her, even as the smell of burnt flesh filtered into his visor.

Jack ran his fingers through Gabriel’s wispy curls. He’d fallen asleep on top of Jack (even though he had his own bed less than two feet away), crammed into a space that was barely big enough for one super soldier, let alone two. Luxury size accommodations his ass. 

Gabriel shifted a little, pressing closer to Jack, a content smile on his face. Jack knew he should stay, wanted to stay, but he was far too wound up to actually join his lover in whatever nice dream he was clearly having. With difficulty, Jack managed to escape; a feat that involved having to lift Gabriel enough to slide out onto the floor, which he landed on with zero grace. 

Jack sighed, standing. His current moral crisis had taken up a lot of his headspace. The only advantage was it kept him from thinking about his usual fixations, his nightmares of fire and death, of losing the one he loved most. They happened while he slept, and while he was awake.

Gabriel, who somehow remained undisturbed, was smiling peacefully. Jack threw on a shirt, snagged his flask from his duffel, and planted a gentle kiss on Gabriel’s forehead before he had second thoughts. Then he left their compartment. He proceeded to wander around the train in flannel pants and socks with a few too many holes in them, drinking as he went, which, he noted, was something he hadn’t really done since he’d found Gabriel again. 

He’d walked by Ana’s compartment, and briefly contemplated waking her, but he didn’t want to be a bother, so he continued on, glancing out the windows at the speeding scenery. Eventually, Jack ended up in the lounge car, which was empty, as expected so late at night. Jack threw himself into the most comfortable looking chair he could find and drank, entirely unaware of the invading shadow. It slid the door open and locked it. Then the shadow slithered into his lap.

Jack raised his brow, lips still on the flask. Gabriel became solid, arms hooked around the back of Jack’s neck, wearing a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. He took another sip, “You know, someone could see you.”

“I bought out the train,” Gabriel shrugged. “If a staff member sees me, I’ll just eat them.” He playfully snapped his teeth.

He shook his head. “You know Gabe, we could have figured out a bigger place to sleep.”

“Mmm, I like it cozy.”

Jack raised the flask again. 

Gabriel clamped a hand around it. “Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Enjoying a drink,” he replied.

“You don't enjoy a drink from a boot flask,” he felt Gabriel gently lower his arm. Jack didn’t fight. “There’s no joy in drinking from something that’s meant to be concealed.” The flask left his hands. “Remember our talk about getting you healthy?”

Jack nodded.

Gabriel’s hand was on his cheek then, clawed thumb caressing worn flesh. “I’m not going to chastise you for your coping methods while we were apart. Mine were pretty shit too,” he looked Jack in the eyes, expression soft, “but I’d like for us to be able to talk instead of returning to them.” A pause. “I can take a stab at what’s bothering you.”

“But you’d rather hear it.”

“I would. Unless you’re not ready to talk about it.”

“May as well,” Jack said. “You know how I don’t like to be alone with my thoughts.”

The tips of Gabriel’s claws trailed down Jack’s face, down his neck, to his chest. “Then why did you leave?”

“You were asleep. Didn’t want to wake you, but I guess I did that anyway.”

Gabriel leaned in, resting his cheek against Jack’s, the warmth of his words in Jack’s ear, “I don’t think it’s possible for me to sleep without you.”

Jack wrapped his arms around Gabriel, pulling him close. “I thought you were afraid to?”

“I am, but I feel like I can do anything when I’m around you,” he said with sincerity.

“If it helps,” Jack’s fingers ran over Gabriel’s spine, feeling each vertebra, “you're not the only one who’s scared.” He sighed heavily, “What am I?”

Gabriel pulled back to stare at Jack. His brow knit together. “What do you mean?”

“I feel nothing for the lives we’ve taken.”

“You don’t have to feel anything for people who were genuinely evil.”

“That depends on your perspective though, doesn’t it? I’m sure their families think that way about us, right?”

Gabriel blinked, “Hell of a time to have a moral dilemma after thirty years of killing for the military.”

_ Reading my mind Gabe.  _ “This is different.”

“Is it?” Gabriel placed his hands on either side of Jack's jaw. “We’ve been playing God our entire lives, but it’s always been at the order of someone else. This time, we’re the ones in control, but we’re still men killing men, monsters killing monsters in the name of destroying the greater evil. Same shit, different dance.”

“Except, every time I carried out an order, it always had some effect on me. I always questioned, even if I buried it later, what kind of person I was, because I felt remorse for each life I took, even if our targets had done horrible things. I felt  _ something _ , Gabriel. But, when we murdered Hajjar, Bonnel, and Fray, there was just nothing at all. I didn’t give two shits about them or what we’d done, and I’m questioning now what that makes me.”

Jack could think of a number of replies to his own quandary: broken, jaded, morally bereft, thoroughly fucked up. All fitting.

“You are the sum of all of your choices, whether they were great successes or resounding failures. You are Jack Morrison, the man I want to spend eternity with.” Gabriel smiled, though not enough to show teeth. “We never did get married.”

The words brought a mix of emotions to Jack. He felt a pang of guilt settle in his chest, though it quickly gave way to something else: hope.

“We were engaged once,” Jack said wistfully.

“Until I threw the ring at you.”

Jack’s hands fell to Gabriel’s hips, rubbing them with his fingers. “You hit me in the ear.”

“I don’t have good aim when I’m pissed.”

“Or at all,” Jack said with a ruthless smirk.

“You too Jack?” Gabriel drew back a little, placing a hand to his own chest, feigning shock. “First it was Ana insulting my skills, and now you.” He scoffed. “You guys are fucking bullies.”

Jack reached up to take Gabriel by the chin, pulling him in. “I think you can handle it.” He kissed Gabriel slowly, tenderly, savoring the heat of his lover’s lips.

When they separated, Gabriel touched their noses together. “Are you going to be alright Jack?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why all of this is coming to the surface now.”

“So long as you’re able to handle it. You tell me if you can’t.”

Jack nodded.

“We’ll be done soon.” Gabriel’s lower half became smoke and he wrapped around Jack’s body, head on his shoulder, arms around his biceps, trapping him in a hug. “Let’s go back to bed. I’ll even help you sleep, since you’re so good to me.” Gabriel drifted off him as if carried by wind, fingers entwining with Jack’s, pulling him out of the chair.

“Hey Gabe?”

“Hmm?” Gabriel floated like a specter, sliding open the lounge car door.

“Thanks. I would have just sat here all night. Might have attempted to drink most of the bar,” he motioned across the car to the shelves of liquor above a black marble top bar with gold flecks.

“I’ll stop your bad decisions and you stop mine. That’s the beauty of our grand partnership, Jackie my dear.”

Jack smiled and let Gabriel lead him back to their compartment.

 

* * *

 

The train let off late afternoon in Florence where a hover car took them to a countryside villa Gabriel had rented. Jack had fallen asleep in the back seat within a few minutes, earning a smirk from Gabriel, who’d decided to drive. He’d wanted to put on some choice cruising tunes, but Ana had swatted his hand away from the controls when he tried.

“How has he been sleeping?” She asked from the passenger’s seat, looking straight ahead.

“Fine,” Gabriel drummed his claws on the steering wheel, “usually. Just had a bit of a crisis last night.” He lifted a hand and Jack’s boot flask formed in it. “How long’s he been doing this shit Ana?”

She let out a small sigh. “A while. It was before we resumed working together. Jack doesn’t talk about it. He’s only briefly mentioned how he turned to it shortly after you died. I’ve done my best to limit his exposure, but I’m not his keeper.”

Gabriel frowned, the image of a grieving, unshaven Jack huddled in a dark corner somewhere drowning his sorrows in booze pierced his thoughts as if he’d been stabbed through the skull. He wondered what else Jack was going through that he wasn’t talking about. “He said he didn’t want to stop the mission.”

“Do you?” Ana asked.

“No, of course not, though it doesn’t stop me from being concerned about his well-being. The next two,” his grip on the steering wheel tightened, “are very personal for he and I. I can’t begin to explain to you what Imogen Thorpe did to him… Fuck. I don’t even know the depth of it, really. Jack hasn’t tried to bring her up again, and I know you’re going to tell me to give him time, but after this one she’s the next target, and I don’t want to see Jack make mistakes because he’s bottling and —”

“Gabriel.” Ana’s hand was on his forearm. He was wearing pair of sunglasses and a hoodie with the hood up, which seemed perfectly acceptable to him for winter in Italy. He was a walking furnace, after all. “If you feel his well-being will be affected by his mindset, then you should, by all means, talk to him about it. However, I also believe you’re burdening yourself with too much already, especially before this kill.” She took a deep breath. “I fear I am as well.”

“You read the dossier?”

“Last evening.” Ana had been going over them as they went instead of binging like he and Jack had. “It’s a shame the true victims of Callisto Santori’s crimes will not be able to see justice done.”

Her response was much simpler than he’d expected considering the weight of it, and the darkness that he knew lurked behind it. “You can talk to me, if you need to.”

“Perhaps later,” she replied. “I am still processing what I read.” A pause. “It was all true?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen her in Talon?”

He wasn’t sure if she meant ever or recently, as he’d had to take breaks to complete various missions for König in order to keep up appearances (including one that, frustratingly, fell on Halloween). Thus far, no one in Talon seemed suspicious of him, though word that someone was offing the higher ups was putting the entire organization on edge. “We’ve been on more than a few missions together.”

Ana nodded, turning her head to look out the window, ending the conversation. They rode in silence the rest of the way, mostly. Jack’s snoring was a constant. Gabriel glanced back at his partner, then straight ahead, cracking a small smile. 

The landscape was still, bleak even as they drove through rolling hills littered with spear-like evergreens. A light dusting of snow covered their branches. More blanketed the ground, masking any sign of vibrance. 

Gabriel had never liked winter, but it had always been better with his family. Memories of sewing Christmas sweaters, drinking hot chocolate, and snuggling up with Jack in front of a fire warmed his thoughts, and he allowed himself to stay there, in the world of life before death, taking comfort from the things that had made him human, and, he supposed, still did. He’d started using them to make a new list, one that involved what he wanted to do, not what he felt he had to.

_ We were engaged once. _

And Gabriel would make sure they would be again. His anger towards Jack still lurked, but the more time they spent together, and, oddly enough, apart, the weaker it became. Being countries, sometimes continents away running operations for Talon had made him appreciate what they had together, and what he was terrified to lose again. He’d truly been lost before Overwatch’s fall, to have been so bitter, so vile for so long, and he wanted to make amends for that. He wanted to show Jack that though his love had been buried, it hadn’t faded, and was stronger than it had ever been. 

Gabriel wouldn’t fuck it up again. They would be official this time.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the villa: an imposing building of white and finely crafted stone set into arches and pillars near the front door. The driveway cut through a sprawling front lawn, which was littered with countless topiary shrubs. Some had been crafted to look like lions.

He parked the hover car. Ana got out as soon as they’d stopped, going around back to unload the trunk.

Gabriel attempted to wake up Jack, becoming smoke and reforming beside him. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he poked Jack’s cheek, receiving a snore for his efforts. “Jaaaaack.” Gabriel poked him again, this time in the side. Jack grimaced in his sleep, whined a little, but continued not being conscious. “Jackie. Love of my life, light in my darkness, certified pain in the ass, wake the fuck up.” Gabriel shook him. 

It did nothing.

He forced an over dramatic huff and pushed the door open, bursting out of the car in a fury of shadows to stand in the snowy driveway, tapping his boot.

“Having trouble?” Ana asked, smirking as she carried their gear up the royal staircase leading to the front door.

“Nope,” Gabriel folded his arms, shrugging. “Not at all.” He made his way to the lawn, forming a gauntlet glove so his skin wouldn’t melt the snow, and started packing some into a ball. “Make fun of my aim huh,” Gabriel chucked the snowball at Jack, hitting him right in the ear.

Jack jolted awake, shock on his features, which quickly settled when he spied Gabriel, who gave him a coy wave. In a blink Jack was out of the car, moving faster than someone in a retina-burning blue puffer coat had any right to. He dove at Gabriel, slamming into his midsection and tackling him into a bush, flattening it.

“Damn it Gabe!” He batted at his ear to wipe away the snow. “ _ Why is it always my ear _ .”

Gabriel was howling with laughter as Jack sat on his chest. “Not my fault you nap like an old man.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, scooped up as much snow as he could in his palms, and dumped it on Gabriel’s face. Gabriel continued laughing as the snow quickly melted from the heat his nanites were putting off, leaving him beaming at Jack.

“Somehow dying actually made you less humble,” Jack said. “Unbelieveable.”

“Admit it. You can’t handle how hot I am,” he tipped his sunglasses down. 

Jack groaned.

Gabriel stuck out his tongue, which Jack pinched between two fingers. He spoke with some difficulty, “Hey I need that.” 

“You’ll manage.”

Because that sounded like a dare, and Gabriel Reyes has never backed down from a dare, he decided to form a second mouth in the side of his neck, and stick another tongue out at Jack. Jack pinched this new tongue with his other hand, so Gabriel made yet another mouth. “I could do this all day Jack, and look, you’re already out of hands.” All three mouths grinned as Gabriel spawned several gloved shadow hands, which began to pelt Jack with snowballs.

“Gabe,” he held up his arms to protect himself from the barrage, “now you’re just cheating!” Jack laughed as he toppled backwards.

Gabriel reversed their positions then, so he was sitting on top of Jack. “Depends on your perspective,” he took the sunglasses off, waving a hand and they vanished in a puff of smoke. “From up here it looks like winning.”

Jack grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and pulled him down into a kiss, locking his legs around Gabriel’s midsection. Gabriel’s mouths smiled as he savored the feeling of Jack’s strong form pressed against his.

“I don’t know,” Jack said, slowly pulling away, though his fingers remained wrapped in the fabric of Gabriel’s hoodie. “Because from where I am it looks like you’re losing.”

Before Gabriel could retort a snowball exploded in his face. He sputtered, and then got hit again. All of his eyes blinked as he wiped the snow away to see Ana at the edge of the lawn, repeatedly tossing and catching another snowball with one hand. Jack then rolled them, scrambling to his feet and running over to Ana. 

_ Oh, so that’s how it is? _

Gabriel grinned. They weren’t going to be a match for him.

 

* * *

 

“Did you have to dump snow down the back of my shirt?” Jack griped. Gabriel watched Jack undress in the comfort of their room in the villa. He tipped his boots upside down and chunks of packed snow fell out onto the carpet.

Gabriel was sprawled out on top of the bed, fully clothed other than his boots and socks. “Hey, you two wanted a war. I was only returning fire.” They’d lost horribly, having only surrendered when Gabriel managed to surround them with a floating army of shadow hands.

Jack grumbled as he stripped down to his boxers. He shivered a bit, and Gabriel was there immediately, wrapped around him like a boa constrictor, arms securely hugging Jack’s chest. Jack let out a peaceful sigh.

“Kind of nice not being the cold one for once,” Gabriel mused.

“Poor LA boy,” Jack placed his hands atop Gabriel’s, “couldn’t take an Indiana winter.”

“Wasn’t so bad,” Gabriel closed his eyes, swaying a little, chin on Jack’s shoulder. “Got me closer to you.”

Jack hummed in agreement.

“Sorry about the snow. Was it fun at least?”

“Yeah. Reminded me of the winter wars back on base.”

“Oh, you mean the ones Torb would win every year with a new ‘prototype’ snowball turret?” Gabriel said. “Remember when he pegged you in the eye and you had to wear an eyepatch because the shiner swelled it shut for a solid week?”

“Impossible to forget, especially since  _ someone _ I know turned my Strike Commander coat into one more befitting of a pirate captain, and left a feathered hat on my desk...”

“No idea who do such a horrible thing, but the end result was pretty fucking dashing if I do say so myself.”

Jack tried to turn to face him, and he loosened his grip to allow it. “You thought any more about where you want to retire to?” Jack pressed himself against Gabriel’s chest, arms tucked in comfortably. “Ana’s suggested Hawaii.”

“I’d vacation in Hawaii, but I’d rather not pick a tourist destination to call home.” Gabriel smiled. “I’m thinking I’d like to settle down in cornfuck nowhere, away from anyone who even remotely remembers the men we used to be.”

Jack’s eyes lit up, brow elevating. “Really?”

“Really. After we’re done with Talon the only excitement I need in my life is waking up beside you each morning.”  _ And maybe a wedding. _ He kissed Jack on the nose then walked through him as smoke, leaving his clothes behind, so Jack was now wearing his hoodie and a pair of jeans. “I’m going to soak for a bit. Why don’t you go exploring? I’m sure you’ll find something interesting in the kitchen.” He shrugged, looking over his shoulder. “A deluxe flat top grill and the most expensive steaks money can buy perhaps.”

Jack smirked, throwing his hood up and pulling the fabric to his nose. “You spoil me.”

“Someone has to.”

“Love you, Gabe,” he said, going up to Gabriel to nudge him with his hip. Jack brushed by, and Gabriel felt him squeeze one of his ass cheeks before he left the room.

Gabriel chuckled and headed to the bathroom, drawing himself a bath, water as hot as it would go. He lowered himself in, resting his head against the back and stared up at the ceiling. He easily lost track of time, using thoughts of Jack to keep his worries, the echoes of devoured souls, and even, to a degree, his pain at bay. He was discovering that life in general was just easier to manage with his missing piece back where he belonged, happiness having replaced anguish, and Gabriel closed his eyes, swept up by the feeling. 

Eventually, he got out, toweling himself off. He spawned some boxers and an old AC/DC t-shirt before he wandered around the villa, used to, if not bored by, the lavish interior designs. He gazed past them, spotting Jack’s soul **,** that brilliant mix of white and blue, like glacial ice in sunlight, dancing in the kitchen on the ground floor. The echo of Johnny Cash reached his ears, along with Jack’s singing. Gabriel smiled, genuinely happy that Jack was doing something he enjoyed, and decided to let him work.

He started scanning for Ana instead, whose soul was above him, stationary, probably on the roof. He dissolved his lower half and glided through through the villa, as if he were some specter who got stuck haunting the place, until he found the best way to reach her.

“It’s really not possible to hide from me when I can see souls,” Gabriel said, forming beside Ana, who was, in fact, sitting up on the snowy roof. She seemed to have climbed up from the balcony below. Age hadn’t slowed her down, not that he’d expected it to. She was far too dogged, and, like he and Jack, sometimes too stubborn.

“I am not hiding Gabriel, merely enjoying the crisp evening under the watchful eyes of the stars,” she replied with a hum.” She was sufficiently bundled up in her long coat with the hood pulled up and her hijab wrapped around her head. Ana glanced at him. “You seem a little underdressed, though I take it your condition is to blame?”

“I could be out here naked and the cold wouldn’t bother me,” he replied. “I’m hot enough to melt the frigid part of Hell.”

Ana cracked a smile. “I suppose we’ve all been there in our lifetimes.”

“More than once,” Gabriel said. The screams in his mind were clear then, and not all were from those he’d eaten. “So, any reason you're hanging out here all alone?”

Ana let out a sigh. “It’s overwhelming to think of the pain Callisto Santori has brought to us.”

_ Us. _ Gabriel knew Ana was generalizing, trying to make it easier to accept, because his actions had affected so many, and not just her. It was a tactic Jack had often used. The struggles of many were more important than the torment of one, even when that individual was crumbling into nothing.

“You don’t have to distance yourself from it Ana. I know how personal this is for you.”

Callisto Santori was the man responsible for what happened to Gerard and Amélie Lacroix. He’d arranged her kidnapping. He’d headed her brainwashing. He’d made sure she was recovered and planted in Overwatch as a sleeper agent. He’d killed Gerard. He’d destroyed Amélie and created Widowmaker.

“That is my issue, Gabriel. The last time I let a mission get personal I didn’t come back. I made a mistake, and it cost me everything.” Ana looked at him, eye a swirling mix of regret and anguish. “It was a selfish decision. I know you resent me for it.”

“Only when I discovered you’d survived, which in retrospect was pretty awful of me.” His claws drummed against the tile roofing, tension thick enough to slice. “Try not to take it too personally? I still have a lot of shit I’m working through.”

Ana gave a nod. 

He stretched his legs out, staring at his blacked, clawed toes. He was suddenly very aware of how exposed he was, how Ana was probably taking in every inch of his monstrous form.  _ She’s already seen you in swimwear, idiot, stop being paranoid. _ Gabriel fought back the urge to cover his body, or burst dissolve into smoke and crawl under the hoodie he’d given Jack. “Back before the fall, when you died, I took it all out on Jack for leaving you behind.”

“It wasn’t his fault. I turned my communicator off.”

“Yeah, he’d mentioned that. I ignored it, putting the weight of your loss squarely on his shoulders. It wasn’t exactly what broke the massive powder keg we’d been standing on, but it came damn close. Might have even sparked the fuse. I don’t know. I was a terrible fucking asshole to him then, and I hate myself more for that than I could ever resent you for your choices.” Ana had fallen silent, though her gaze remained with his. “I don’t even think I blame you, not really. I’m just stuck in the past, wondering what could have been, bitter about having been abandoned, and, at the time, sorely missing my friend.” Gabriel offered his hand, which Ana took. “Jack and I had been drifting for years. You weren’t able to prevent that, no matter what you did, stuck in the middle of our storm, doing your best to be an ear, to mediate, and that wasn’t fucking fair to you.”

“Perhaps not, but I couldn’t be idle while you two suffered. You are my closest friends. I had to at least try.”

“I know, and I appreciate you having been a better person than either of us.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Ana said with a smirk. Their hands parted. “I know it's hard Gabriel, and I've fought with it too, but lingering in the past only causes one to rot.”

“Did that already.” He jabbed his own chest with a thumb. “I'm pretty much a certified member of the living dead.”

“You know what I mean Gabriel.” She shot him a serious look.

“Yeah,” It was something Ana used to tell Fareeha, “always move forward.”

A wind whistled through the evergreens, disturbing the otherwise peaceful fall of snow. He watched a gust of shimmering flakes flow over his bare legs. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You're completely right. It was… wishful thinking on my part that you could have done anything to change what happened to us and Overwatch. It still hurts me though, knowing you could have come home, but give me some time and I’ll get over it.”

She nodded. “I understand.” Ana leaned back, palms flat behind her, and stretched her legs too.

“So…”

“Hmm?”

“You really don’t care that I look like this?” He motioned to his body with a sweep of his hand. 

“No,” Ana said. “As I told you back in Cairo, you are still Gabriel Reyes. Your body is different, and though you’re a bit worse for wear, you still manage to shine through.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it shining. More like blending into the all-consuming, mysterious night, and being dark and broody like Batman,” Gabriel brought an arm up like he was pulling a cape around himself, forming a thin veil of shadows.

“Ah,” Ana held up a finger, “but Batman doesn’t have any superpowers.”

“True, but I’ve got the cool costume, boundless fortune, and unmatched intelligence, so I figure I’m close enough.” He scooted closer to Ana and slung an arm around her. “I’ve also got the intimidating antihero voice.”

Ana rolled her eye. 

“I saw that.” He indicated to his multiple eyes, pointing with two fingers as he moved them above his face.

“You are just as much of a nerd as you ever were.”

“Guess that part of me didn’t change,” he let go of Ana and leaned back again, staring up at a sliver of moon. “When I was Reaper, before Jack helped me, I buried who I was, letting my worst qualities roam free. I’ve thought about that a lot, probably moreso with this kill on the horizon.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Amélie is like how I was, only she never chose it. On missions she’s perfect, calculating, efficient, exactly what Talon made her for, but I wonder: how much of her is left? Is Amélie trapped inside of Widowmaker? Or did Santori’s brainwashing process destroy her?”

“You want to help her.”

“I do, if we get that opportunity. We all remember the old Amélie.”

“The witty, joyous ballerina who was deeply in love with her husband,” Ana said. She sighed. “Have you considered what is more cruel?”

“Hmm?” Gabriel turned his head to look at Ana, who was focused on the sky as it if had some untold knowledge to bestow.

“To allow her to continue living a lie, or to force her to remember everything she’s lost.”

“So what,” Gabriel sat up straight. “You want to just leave her as is?”

“No,” Ana shook her head. “I’m not implying that at all. I simply think she should be able to decide for herself.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure that was entirely possible. Amélie was loyal to Talon, especially König, and followed his orders to the letter. She still remembered some things about her past, went home to her family chateau between missions sometimes, but no matter what, if she was needed, she would answer. How much autonomy did she actually have? Would it be enough to make that kind of choice?

“Yeah,” was all he could say. 

“It's the best we can do.”

“You're not angry with her for what she did to you?” Gabriel asked.

“I used to be, but I know how to forgive, even though her actions took much from me it wasn't in her control. I cannot blame her.”

Ana was far more merciful than he. Part of him wished he could be, but the rest of him knew it was impossible. Any bit of mercy for those who had wronged him had been stripped away in death. Only a wraith remained. 

“Hey,” Jack called. He was standing on the balcony wearing a cooking apron over Gabriel’s clothes and waving a spatula around. “Dinner is ready.”

“You found the kitchen Jack?” Ana called.

“Found and took it over. Ana, should I bother asking why Gabriel is on the roof in his underwear?”

Gabriel pinched the bright fabric of his boxers, “I heard space aliens are attracted to red. Figured I’d try and lure one in for dinner, since I’m not going to be able to taste yours.”

“Just because you can’t enjoy my cooking, doesn’t mean Ana won’t. Now hurry up and get down here before her food gets cold.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gave a salute. “On the way Grillmaster Morrison.” Gabriel stood and offered Ana a hand. She took it, he helped her up, and he watched her climb down off the roof. Gabriel stood on the edge, thrusting his chest out and throwing up his arms as if he were about to go into a dive, “Catch me Jack!”

“What? Gabe, no!” Jack let out a shout as Gabriel jumped. He softened his fall by going partially incorporeal, and Jack managed to react fast enough to catch him in his arms.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Gabriel said, beaming.

“I’m about three seconds from dropping you,” Jack deadpanned.

“Don’t lie to yourself.” Gabriel patted Jack’s cheek. “You can’t keep your hands off me.” He waggled his brows. 

It was supposed make Jack laugh, but instead he sighed, suddenly burying his face in the crook of Gabriel’s neck, becoming alarmingly still. His voice was quiet, “With how hard I fought to get you back I’m not going to let you go.” Jack pressed him as close as he could, tipping Gabriel’s body so it looked like he was trying to curl him.

“Hey,” Gabriel’s voice softened, “I’m not going anywhere.” He frowned.

Ana came over and put her hands on Jack’s shoulders.

“I know. I’m just… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize Jack,” Gabriel said, kissing the top of Jack’s head. “You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“I have. I’ve been keeping this in, away from you.”

Gabriel kept kissing him, hoping it was enough reassurance, “I promise, it’s okay.”

“I haven’t felt like this in a while.”

Jack had been doing noticeably better mentally up until his recent drinking stint on the train, and though Gabriel had wondered if there’d been more to it, he knew it would be better to let Jack tell him on his own. So, he remained silent, waiting. It took a few minutes. 

“I’ve been fine Gabe, mostly. My mind is…” he shook his head. “I sometimes can’t believe this is real. I think of Zürich, of you dying, of me holding your bleeding body wishing with every smoldering remnant of hope that you’d just fucking wake up. I… I see it all the time and then I think, what if this is all a dream? What if I’m still alone and I’ve thought all of this up?”

“Then you should have imagined us as hot young guys again,” Gabriel turned to smoke then, sweeping Jack off his feet instead to carry him bridal style. He smiled at him, and two shadow hands appeared, pulling the corners of Jack’s mouth upward. Jack gave a weak laugh, holding Gabriel’s work on his own, which was good enough. “But, seriously, I think that shit too on occasion, those demons that truly never leave us… Sometimes it’s the explosion, sometimes it’s you dying in the Crisis, and sometimes it’s Reaper actually pulling the trigger. I promise you Jack, your anxiety-ridden brain is wrong. What we’re doing is very real. I’m real. Hell, even Ana’s real. Right Ana?”

“Actually Gabriel I’m a figment of your imagination that’s taken the form of a vengeful spirit,” she replied, walking forward and opening the balcony doors. “I can only be appeased by the dinner that’s waiting downstairs.”

“What do you say Jack? Ready to head down?”

He nodded.

“I’ll even eat whatever you made and try to remember what your once fantastic cooking tastes like.”

“Once?” Jack said as Gabriel walked them inside, crossing his arms in an attempt at pouting. “Are you implying my cooking prowess isn’t up to snuff?”

“Not everything about you has aged like a fine wine,” Gabriel plucked at Jack’s thinning hair, tone teasing.

“Well, I guess Ana will have to be the judge,” Jack said.

Ana shut the door, and put her hands on Gabriel’s back. She pushed him forward. “I won’t be able to do so if you two don’t hurry up.”

“The fastest mode of travel I know is shadow stepping. I could bring you both downstairs that way.” Gabriel offered.

Jack let out a nervous chuckle. “I think I’d prefer to keep all of my molecules right where they are.”

“Then you’d best convince Gabriel to walk faster, because I'm starting to consider the idea.” Ana pushed harder. 

“Giddy up and all that,” Jack said with muted enthusiasm, resting comfortably against Gabriel.

Gabriel laughed and carried Jack downstairs, intentionally being slow about it.

 

* * *

 

Ana’s verdict on Jack’s cooking had been what any chef could have asked for: she went back for seconds. Gabriel had devoured one of Jack’s steaks, having commented on the texture and the tenderness of the meat, cracking jokes as he usually did, but Jack could tell he was genuinely upset he couldn’t experience the food properly. 

He wished he could help.

Jack wished he could do a lot of things he had no power over, and still felt awful over his small breakdown earlier. He supposed that’s what he got for keeping something like that in. His fault, as it always was.

_ That’s not true. _ He shook his head, finding it hard to believe.

Jack sat on the living room couch, staring at the floor. He’d moved all of the furniture in the spacious room to the walls in preparation for Sombra’s briefing, also setting up her various hologram projectors. Ana and Gabriel had offered to clean up in the kitchen, so he was left to his own thoughts. And he wasn’t doing well with them. He repeatedly tapped his foot on the hardwood, trying to focus on the sound it made.

What an idiot he’d been. 

Of course everything was real. He was just terrified of it slipping away, and had started to feel like he used to when the two of them were apart, when Jack worried endlessly about Gabriel’s Blackwatch missions (and his recent Talon exploits didn't help matters). It was irrational, he knew, moreso now that Gabriel had abilities, and tried his best to soothe himself, look at the positive side of things.

_ Three more to go. _ They were halfway done with the Directorate. Soon it would be over, and then he could retire with Gabriel and live out the rest of his days as he’d always wanted. The beach was nice, but as Gabriel had pointed out, it was definitely better for a vacation. They’d dealt with too many people in their lifetimes, and had honestly earned some fucking peace and quiet. 

Jack focused on the image of an old farmhouse with wooden siding surrounded by fields of corn stalks, maybe a few trees here and there, and a large yard to play with their dogs.  _ Dogs.  _ He smiled a bit. He’d have to think of names...

The couch cushions on either side of him bounced, and he lifted his head to see that Gabriel and Ana had joined him.

“That was fast,” Jack said.

“It was mostly Gabriel. I suppose he’s handy to have around,” Ana smirked at him.

“What she means is she supervised while I did the dirty work.” Gabriel shot her a glare, wagging an accusing finger.

“Someone had to do it. Command is a very difficult position as you well know,” she shrugged. “And it’s not my fault you’re horribly efficient at cleaning up messes.”

“Always have been,” Gabriel nudged Jack, “especially ones you make,” then snaked an arm around his midsection while Ana laid one across his shoulders. “We didn’t leave you alone for too long, did we?”

Jack shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. Trying to name our five dogs.”

Gabriel stared at him, “I thought it was three.”

“I haven’t settled on a solid number yet. More or less seeing how far I can go before you give me a definite no.”

“That’s not really fair Jack.” Gabriel grumbled. “You know I’m not going to.”

“Perfect for me then,” Jack gave Gabriel a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll take ten.”

“You little shit.”

“Ana,” he turned his head to her. “You want to help name them too?”

“Certainly Jack.”

“I'm calling one  _ Torta  _ or  _ Tortita,”  _ Sombra chimed in, her hologram appearing from one of the projectors he’d placed. 

“We are  _ not _ naming her after food,” Gabriel snapped. 

“No one hates cake, Gabe,” Jack said, scoffing. “And her you say…?” His smile grew to a smarmy grin. “You pick a breed yet?”

Gabriel mumbled, “I may have a few ideas... We'll talk about it later.”

Jack nodded, pleased that Gabriel seemed to have been thinking about their retirement too. 

“Alright  _ soldados viejos _ , now that you're sated on grilled food, which you owe me by the way, Jack,” Sombra said poking his nose, which went right through, “let's go over the infiltration.” She raised an arm and a three dimensional version of Callisto Santori’s villa rose from the floor as if she were a Goddess building mountains.

She’d hacked into the security company's network and had spent weeks gathering data to build her simulation. Jack paid close attention as she explained the system specs, guard rotations and patrol routes, watching their movements carefully around the grounds.

Callisto had been away from his home for several months. According to Sombra he'd been on Talon’s main base as well as several of their facilities across the globe. He was one of their top scientists; a genius by all accounts, proficient in several disciplines. Taking him out on Talon grounds was, as she'd put it: “probably fun, but definitely stupid”. 

So, they’d waited for the right opportunity.

Several screens popped up, showing a live feed from inside of the villa. On one of them was Callisto Santori getting ready for bed. He was a tall man, taller than he and Gabriel, but much, much thinner, lacking any sort of muscular bulk, like tree stripped of all its leaves. Still, Santori managed to still look imposing; something Jack attributed to his face. There was regality to his expressions, and his features were sharp enough to cut diamonds: a long nose angled down slightly with a beauty mark over his right nostril, high cheekbones, and a square jaw. He looked like the kind of man who could eviscerate you without having to lift a finger, words being more than enough.

Jack thought of Thorpe then, and his skin crawled. Gabriel’s grip around his waist tightened, though he remained focused on Sombra’s presentation. Her and Ana were walking through the holographic villa, going over the best vantage points around the property for her to set up. Jack wondered how much Thorpe and Santori worked together. With what he’d done to Amélie Lacroix, it wouldn’t surprise Jack if the two of them had compared notes regarding the torment of others.

He shook his head.

Callisto Santori didn’t deserve any form of mercy, and yet they were setting up to kill him in his home while he slept. A swift, quiet death was much too good for the man.

“Jack,” Sombra was hovering right in front of him. She snapped her fingers. “ _ Hola.  _ Earth to Jack.”

“Hrm? What?”

“You were staring at the wall,” Gabriel said.

Jack glanced at Gabriel, and then at Ana, who were both looking at him with concern. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Care to share with the rest of the the class?” Sombra asked. “Did you hear what I was saying before?”

“We’re going in at 0200, after the guard rotation, when the path to the second floor bedroom from the foyer is clear for forty-three seconds. We’ll wait in his office for approximately one minute and twelve seconds while the upstairs patrol passes, and then we'll enter Santori’s bedroom and kill him. Security sensors will be disabled and cameras will have a loop feed. If everything goes well, it should be our cleanest operation,” Jack said mechanically. 

“Oh, so you were listening.  _ Bien _ .” Sombra said.

Ana continued to look at him, and Jack flicked his fingers at her as an indication that she should get back to talking with Sombra. He offered a smile for good measure. Ana sighed, but gave him a nod.  

Gabriel nudged him. “You good? You sound unhappy.”

“I’ll be fine Gabe.” And he would be, he hoped. It wasn’t just that killing Santori seemed like it was going to be a walk. It was also that it meant he’d have to see Thorpe again soon, and that threat, that looming darkness of finding out what he’d do in response, had settled deep within his mind. Even with Gabriel by his side he wasn’t sure how it would go, and the uncertainty frightened him. “Let's just get this done.” Jack’s gaze met Gabriel’s, “All of it.”

“We will,” Gabriel leaned in to rest his forehead against Jack’s. “Promise.”

“Together I don’t doubt it.”

 

* * *

 

Callisto Santori’s front yard was actually a fucking oblong pond with a giant white marble statue of an angel at its center. Gabriel would have ignored it had the statue not had Callisto’s face and the words “God is here” etched into the base in Italian. The whole thing was underlit, exposing every intricately carved feather of wings that stretched to the Heavens. In one hand the angel clutched a book to its chest, and in the other held a staff with a serpent wrapped around it. The arrogance just  _ oozed _ from the thing, and he thought about knocking it down.

Maybe he would as a reward for a job well done.

Gabriel stuck close to Jack as they snuck around the perimeter to a side door the villa staff used. Sombra had disabled the locks, so it was open for them when they arrived. They waited for her instruction, and when they were given their opening, he and Jack headed upstairs. After a short wait, they were inside Callisto Santori’s bedroom, standing over the man, who was wearing a silk sleep mask.

Jack quietly removed his sidearm from his thigh holster, aiming. It had already been fitted with a silencer.

Gabriel put a hand on the barrel. He motioned with a nod towards one of the pillows, miming with both hands as if he were holding it down. Jack started at Callisto, considering. Gabriel had thought about so many different ways he wanted to end the man’s life. 

If he’d had the ability, he’d utterly destroy that vile, yet brilliant mind he so coveted. Callisto had no close family, no relationships, no one he loved aside from himself, and Gabriel desperately wanted to take that from him in the slowest manner possible. Jack had to know that.

But, Jack also knew, as did Gabriel, that this was the best opportunity they had to quickly remove a Directorate member from their crosshairs. And he wasn’t going to fuck that up. 

Neither of them would.

Jack answered him by taking the shot. A bullet hole was left in Callisto’s pale forehead.

“You’re disappointed too,” Gabriel noted, not allowing any sort of silence to settle. There was no respect for the dead here.

“It wasn’t enough for what he did.”

“I know,” Gabriel said. “We still clear Sombra?”

“Doesn’t seem like anyone heard anything,” her voice said through their group communicator.

“Alright,” he put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. Jack was still focused on the body. “I’ll clean up.” Gabriel reached out to touch Callisto’s chest, to take his soul, and when he did he froze, all of his eyes widening beneath his Reaper mask.

“Gabe?” Jack said. “What’s wrong?”

“This is…” He shook his head, taking in everything as quickly as he could. There was so much to process, but he didn’t have to in order to see the one thing that stood out. “This isn’t hi—”

Gabriel was interrupted by loud clapping. Several screens appeared. On them were a pair of hands adorned in gold and gem laden rings. Shield barriers appeared across the doorway and the windows. Gabriel could no longer hear Sombra.

He stepped closer to Jack, and Jack did the same to him, standing back to back, ready.

They both knew they were trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two milestones: I broke 100k with this chapter, and I've been writing this fic for over a year. We have about 3-4 more chapters before we hit the last third of the story by my mental estimate. Andro beta read this one (love you).
> 
> I'd like to thank the continued support I've gotten on this fic. It really helps. I'd also like to apologize for taking months to update chapters. My old pal depression is coming back in force, so it's getting difficult for me to get things done these days, but, I'll keep going because that's really the only thing there is to do.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter and the "big gay snowball fight" as my husband put it while he read over my shoulder as I was writing that part. 
> 
> Feel free to pester me at kerrigore.tumblr.com.


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